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SOLD BY 

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Book 



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Drowned August S\ h 1811 Aged 20 Years A* six months. 



MEMOIRS 

OF THE 

LIFE AND MINISTRY 

OF THE EATE 

REV. THOMAS SPENCER, 

OF LIVERPOOL : 

WITH 

AN APPENDIX, 

CONTAINING A SELECTION FROM HIS PAPERS, &c. 

AND 

ADDITIONAL PAPERS. 

TOGETHER WITH 

A POEM ON HIS DEATH, BY JAMES MONTGOMERY 



BY THOMAS RAFFLES. 

HIS SUCCESSOR IN THE PASTORAL OFFICE, 



TO WHICH IS ADDED 

REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY, 

BY THE REV,. CHARLES BUCK, 



HARTFORD : 

PUBLISHED BY EVERARD PECK. 

Sheldon & Goodtritu.... Printers, 

1815. 



&8& 



<3!H 
Wlrs. Mennen Jennings 
April 26, 19S3 



PREFACE 



T, 



HE volume now presented to the public, owes its origin 
to one of those mysterious events in Providence, which seem 
commissioned, at distant intervals to alarm and admonish the 
church of God. A loss so sudden, so awful, so universally de- 
plored, as that of Mr. Spencer, demanded improvement. Many 
impressive discourses were delivered on the sad occasion, sever- 
al of which have issued from the press. But his life was not 
less instructive than his death ; and the more it was contemplat- 
ed by his friends, the more deeply they felt the importance of 
rescuing from oblivion those traits of his character, and circum° 
stances of his history, by which their own private circles had 
been interested. Upon my acceptance of the solemn office from 
which he was so unexpectedly removed, his bereaved people, 
anxious to see some authorized memoirs of their beloved pastor 
embodied and preserved, committed the mournful duty to my 
hands. My respect for the honoured dead, and attachment to 
the living-, induced me to accept the charge : how I have exe- 
cuted the important trust reposed in me, I must now leave it 
with a candid public to decide. 

Various causes have contributed to create the delay which 
has attended the publication of the book. It was with consid- 
erable difficulty that I collected the materials necessary for my 
purpose. I had imagined, from the general impression which 
prevailed, at least amongst Mr. Spencer's friends, of the propri- 
ety of such a publication, that information would have been spon- 



IV PREFACE. 

taneously offered from every quarter whence it might be {garnish- 
ed. But in this I was disappointed ; and it was some consider- 
able time from the annunciation of my design, before I was suf- 
ficiently supplied to commence, with any degree of prudence* 
the composition of the volume. 

In addition to this, the laborious duties of a new and moit ex- 
tensive charge, conspired often to suspend the prosecution of 
the work, for the appearance of which J knew many to be anx- 
ious, but none more so than myself. 

Had I at first anticipated the extent of these Memoirs, I 
should most probably have shrunk from the undertaking. But 
the volume has grown almost imperceptibly beneath my hand. 
What I have recorded of the dear departed is strictly true, so 
far as the veracity of the most excellent men can warrant the 
assertion; and whatever opportunity the narrative has afforded 
of administering instruction I have gladly seized, and conscien- 
tiously improved, leaving the issue to a higher agent. 

I have at length completed the work; and now, with the 
deepest humility and diffidence, I resign it to the blessing of 
God — the consideration of friendship — and the candour of the 
public. If to those who knew and- loved him, it shall sometimes 
recall, with grateful emotions, the image and the excellencies of 
their departed friend ; if it shall induce any to emulate the bright 
example of his manly virtues, and his christian graces ; or if but 
one, anticipating or commencing the laborious duties of the 
christian ministry, shall derive from the contemplation of Spen- 
cer's character, instruction, caution, or encouragement— I am 
amply recompensed— I have not laboured in vain ! 



THOMAS RAFFLES 



Toxteth Park, Liverpool, 
February 15th, 1813. 



MEMOIRS, &c. 



Seldom has a task so painfully arduous fallen to the 
lot of a biographer, as that which, in the mysterious 
providence of God, has unexpectedly devolved on me. 
The recollection of departed excellence, which a long 
series of years had developed and matured, is mingled 
with a melancholy feeling, and not unfrequently ex- 
cites the tribute of a tear : but the individual who 
erects a monument to friendship, genius, usefulness 
and piety, prematurely wrapt in the oblivion of the 
grave, must necessarily prosecute his mournful work 
with trembling hands, and with a bleeding heart. 
And yet the mind is soothed by the communication of 
its sorrow \ the bosom is relieved of an oppressive bur- 
then while it tells the virtues of the friend it mourns ; 
and the best feelings of the heart are satisfied with the 
consciousness, that instead of indulging in solitude the 
luxury of unavailing grief, it has employed its pow- 
ers to pourtiay, in lively colours, for the improvement 
of the living, the excellencies of the beloved and pious 
dead. For myself, with mournful pleasure, I hasten to 
1* 



O MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

sketch the rude outline of one of the loveliest and most 
finished characters the present age has known ;— paus- 
ing onl y to express my deep regret, that one so ripe for 
heaven, and jet so eminently useful upon earth, should 
be called from the important sphere he occupied, so 
soon ; and that to hands so feeble should be commit- 
ted, — together with the solemn trust which he resigned 
in death, the painful duty of erecting this monument 
to his worth. 

The Reverend Thomas Spencer, was born at 
Hertford, January 21, 1791. — He occupied the third 
place out of four who surrounded his father's table, but 
shared equally with them in the tender and affectionate 
solicitude of parents, who, placed in the middle sphere 
of human life, were respectable for their piety, and 
highly esteemed in the circle in which a wise Providence 
had allotted them to move. It cannot be expected that 
any thing peculiarly interesting should mark the early 
childhood of a youth, retired from the observation of 
the world, and far removed from the presence of any 
of those circumstances winch might be considered as 
favourable to the excitation of latent talent or the dis- 
play of early genius. And yet the years of his infancy 
and childhood were not undistinguished by some inti- 
mations of a superior mind, from which a thoughtful 
observer might have been induced to augur something 
of his future eminence, and which his amiable father it- 
appears did with silence watch. He himself observes, 
in a hasty sketch of his life, which now lies before me,— - 
" As far back as I can recollect, my memory was com- 
plimented by many as being very retentive, and my 
progress in knowledge was more considerable than that 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

of my school -fellows 5 a natural curiosity and desire of 
knowledge, I think I may say, without vanity, distin- 
guished even the period of my infancy. I now remem- 
ber questions that I asked when about four years old, 
which were rather singular, and which were confined 
chiefly to biblical subjects. No child could be more 
attached to places of worship, or could be more inquisi- 
tive about their concerns than myself ; and I may add, 
more given to imitate the actions of the minister and 
clerk."* 

When he had completed his fifth year, he suffered 
the severest earthly privation a child can know, in the 
loss of an affectionate mother. Though then too young 
correctly to appreciate a parent's worth, he deeply 
felt the stroke 5 and in the liveliest manner he recalls 
the impression which at that early period this melan- 
choly circumstance produced upon his tender mind. 
" When the funeral sermon was preached I could not 
help noticing the grief which seemed to pervade every 
person present. Deeply affected myself, I recollect, 
that after the service, as I was walking about our lit- 
tle garden with my disconsolate father, I said to him, 
< Father, w T hat is the reason that so many people cried 
at the meeting this afternoon. — He, adapting his lan- 
guage to my comprehension, said, < They cried to see 
little children like you without a mother."f This 
event, which shed so deep a gloom upon his family, 
seems to have excited emotions of a serious nature in 
his mind never totally effaced. 

From this time he applied himself with diligence 
and delight to the business of his school. There was 

*M. S. Memoirs. f Ibid. 



8 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

at this early age something amiable and engaging in 
his manners ; and this combined with his attention to 
his learning, soon secured the esteem and approbation 
of his respective teachers, and gained him, together 
with the first place and highest honours of his school, 
the character of " a good boy" It is pleasing to mark 
the early combination of superior talent and sweetness 
of disposition in this extraordinary young man ; and 
it would be well, did the patrons of early genius more 
deeply ponder the reflection, that the graces of a meek 
and quiet spirit are far more estimable than the rare 
qualities of a prematurely vigorous mind ; and that the 
talents they cultivate with such anxious care, if unas- 
sociated with real excellence of soul, may render the 
idols of their fond adulation sources of anguish to them- 
selves and incalculable mischief to mankind. 

Whilst a school boy, he became passionately fond of 
novels, histories, adventures, &c. which he devoured 
with the greatest eagerness in numbers truly astonish- 
ing. The perusal of these he always preferred to play 
and other amusements adapted to his years. He de- 
lighted much in solitude 5 nor did he know a happiness 
superior to that of being alone, with one of his favourite 
books. He took no delight in the games of his compan- 
ions, nor did he ever mingle in their little feuds. His 
natural levity, however, was excessive ; and his wit, fed 
by the publications he so ardently perused, would often 
display itself in impurity of language to the laughter 
and amusement of his fellows. Yet he was not without 
his moments of serious reflection, and that of a very 
deep and dreadful kind. — He was often overwhelmed 
with religious considerations, and the solemn sermons 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

he sometimes heard, filled him with terror and alarm. 
So intolerable at one period were the horrors of his 
mind, that in an agony of despair, he was tempted, as 
many have been before him, to destroy himself. — Thus 
at an early age he became intimately acquainted with 
the depravity of his nature 5 and from the deep waters 
of spiritual distress through which he was called to 
pass, his soul imbibed an air of humility and a habit of 
watchfulness, which enabled him to meet with firmness 
the dangers of popularity, and to maintain a steady 
course, notwithstanding the press of sail he carried. 

To these deep convictions of his early years may per- 
haps be traced the peculiarly pressing and empassioned 
manner of his address, when he strove to arouse the 
slumbering conscience, or direct the weary wanderer to 
the cross of Christ. — The sacred poems and the passa- 
ges of holy writ, which most he loved, were those of a 
cast similar to that of his own fervent mind ; and I 
have heard many tell, with tears, of the animation and 
rapture with which he would often repeat from that 
beautiful hymn of Henry Kirke White, his favourite 
author, whom in many shades of character he much re- 
sembled, and alas ! too much in his early and lamented 
fate- 
Once on the stormy seas I rode, 

The storm was loud, the night was dark ; 
The ocean yawn'd, and rudely blow'd 

The wind that toss'd my found'ring" bark. 

Deep horror then my vitals froze ; 

Death struck, I ceas'd the tide to stem, 
When suddenly a star arose, 

It was the star of Bethlehem. 



10 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

It was my guide, my light, my all, 

It bade my dark forebodings cease ; 
And thro' the storm of danger's thrall 

It led me to the port of peace. 

Now safely moor'd — my perils o'er, 

Fll sing, first in night's diadem, 
For ever and for ever more, 

The star !— the star of Bethlehem. 

The bias and inclination of his mind began at this, 
early period to be disclosed ; preachers and preaching 
seemed to occupy all his thoughts, and often he would 
exercise himself in addressing such domestic congrega- 
tions as may be supposed to constitute the usual audito- 
ries of an infant. Thus in his ealiest childhood he dis- 
played his fond attachment to the Christian Ministry, 
and the first efforts of his infant mind were directed to 
that sublime and dignified profession, in which the ca- 
pacities of his maturer age were so brilliantly displayed. 
These infantine compositions were not infrequently en- 
tirely his own ; and when they claimed not the merit 
of originality, they were derived from hints collected 
from what he had heard or read. But his Preaching 
exhibitions could not long be confined to the narrow 
circle and scanty congregation his father's house sup- 
plied ; tidings of his early pulpit talents soon circulated 
through the neighbourhood ; many were anxious to lis- 
ten to the instructions of this extraordinary child 5 and 
most regarded him, as he himself expresses it, " a par- 
son in embryo." 

At this age also he wrote verses. He seems however 
to have had but a mean opinion of his talent for poetry. 
It certainly was not the art in which he most excelled. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. ll 

Though an individual may have a power of rhyming suf- 
ficient for throwing his feelings into tolerable easy verse, 
yet something more than this is required in a produc- 
tion which, under the dignified title of a poem, is to 
meet the public eye. And while most men of an en- 
lightened mind and cultivated taste, have solicited the 
muses' aid for purposes of private instruction and amuse- 
ment, and the domestic and social circle have been priv- 
ileged to share in both, yet it is not necessary to the 
perfection of the pulpit orator, that he should be an ex- 
quisite poet, nor is it at all a detraction from ihe great- 
ness of his character, that the world should hesitate to 
pronounce unqualified praise upon poetical effusions, 
on which the eye or the ear of friendship might linger 
■with delight. 

These observations will serve to account for the cir- 
cumstance, that none of Mr. Spencer's poetical pro- 
ductions are preserved in these pages. And while some 
partial friends, who saw with pleasure the pieces which 
circulated in private, may regret for the moment their 
entire exclusion here, his biographer hopes, that he shall 
render a more essential service to the memory of his 
departed friend, by occupying their place, with extracts 
from his papers of a more solid and interesting kind. 

These early displays of talent however introduced 
him to the notice and friendship of some individuals of 
wealth and consequence. This was doubtless consid- 
ered by himself and his fond parent as no inconsiderable 
circumstance in the history and prospects of a child, 
who, if he rose into eminence at all, could have no facil- 
ities afforded him, by the auspicious omens of his birth, 
or the rank of his father's family. But alas 1 the fond 



12 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

anticipations which from this quarter he cherished, and 
perhaps with some degree of reason, were not all real- 
ized, to the full extent to which his sanguine mind had 
urged them. It was doubtless well for him, however, 
that they were not. The disappointments of childhood 
will give a sober cast to the else too glowing pictures 
and too anxious hopes of youth ; and while they excite 
a caution in respect to the confidence we should place 
in the prospects that unfold themselves before us, ad- 
mirably prepare the mind for the event, when the pledg- 
es of friendship lie long unredeemed, and the fair blos- 
soms of hope are blasted and destroyed. 

In the mean time he applied himself with surprising 
diligence to the acquisition of knowledge. In his fa- 
vourite pursuit he met with the most important aid, 
from the valuable friendship of the late Rev. Ebenezer 
White, then the pastor of the Independent Church at 
Hertford. — For this amiable and pious man, so early 
lost to the church of Christ,* Mr. Spencer ever cherish- 
ed and expressed the warmest affection ; whilst he sur- 
vived but a few weeks the melancholy pleasure of 
paying the last tribute of respect to his beloved re- 
mains, and giving utterance to the warm and author- 

* Mr. White died Sunday, May 5th, 1811. An interesting me- 
moir of his life (together with his select remains) has been pub- 
lished by the Rev. Joseph Fletcher, A. M. of Blackburn ; with 
a recommendatory preface, by the Rev. Dr. Collyer, of London. 
In the melancholy but pleasing- task of selecting these papers for 
the press, Mr. Fletcher was originally joined by the subject of 
these memoirs : — but whilst Mr. Spencer was thus engaged in 
rearing a monument to the memory of his departed friend — he too 
was suddenly removed, and it devolved upon the hand of friend- 
ship to perform the same office for himself 



MEMOIRS GT SPENCRS. 1,3 

-feed feelings of his heart, in a most impressive oration 
•at his grave. From Mr. White he learned the rudi- 
ments of the Latin tongue 5 and though the early re- 
moval of that gentleman to Chester deprived him of 
his kind and valuable assistance, yet his father, who 
had discernment to perceive, and wisdom to foster the 
unfolding talents of his son. afforded him the means of 
more ample instruction, by sending hkn to the best 
-ehool Ins native town supplied. Approbation cannot 
be expressed in language too unqualified of the con- 
duct, in this respect, pursued by the parents cf this 
amiable youth, who though surrounded by every cir- 
cumstance of a worldly nature to check its progress, 
yet nobly determined to afford every degree of culture, 
which such sacrifices as they might be able to make would 
yield to a mind which promised to rise superior to the 
cbscurity of its birth, and consecrate at some future pe- 
riod no common share of genius to the noblest and the 
best of causes. Nor must these expressions pass unming- 
led by regret, that many important accessions are lost to 
the interests -of religion and literature by i^Ae neglect 
e£ ignorant, or the reluctance of sordid parents, who 
in the one case have not the capacity to discover talent, 
or in the other a disposition, where their worldly cir- 
cumstances are narrow and scanty, to make any sacri- 
fice of ease on their part, or expected emolument on 
that of the child, for its cultivation. 

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,, 

The dark unfathom'd caves of occur, bear ; 

Full many a Mower is horn to blush unseen, 
And wasfe its sweetness on the desertair. 



i* memoirs of spencer. 

At about the age of twelve years, Mr. Spencer con- 
aiders himself to have become the subject of serious im- 
pressions of a deep and permanent kind, and to have 
felt something experimentally of the power of religion. 
This most interesting circumstance he simply states in 
the memoir of his life before referred to, but mentions 
no particulars respecting the mode in which these im- 
pressions were wrought upon his mind, or in what war 
they operated upon his character, his conduct, and his 
views. The general effect, however, he distinctly re- 
cords to have been that of heightening his desire of the 
Christian ministry, for which, it was strongly impressed 
upon his mind, God had destined him 5 whilst it recon- 
ciled him to his present situation, which was most un- 
congenial to the bias of Ins mind, and most unfriendly 
to the accomplishment of his ardent wishes 5 for the 
circumstances of his father's family were at that time of 
such a nature as to render his assistance necessary be- 
tween the hours of school, and at length compelled his 
parent, however reluctantly, entirely to remove him. 
His removal from school, however, was not in conse- 
quence of his father's having abandoned the prospect 
©f his one day entering on the work of the ministry, but 
an act dictated by prudence, which afforded him an op- 
portunity patiently to wait, and calmly to watch the 
leadings of Providence, and the occurrence of any cir- 
cumstances wich might tend to fix the future destiny of 
his sen. These prudential arrangements, however, 
were a source of keenest anguish to the mind of Spen- 
cer. He bowed at first with reluctance to the yoke of 
manual labour when but partially imposed— -rapidly 
performed the appointed task, and leaped with joy from 



MEMOIRS OF SfENC&li. ij 

toils so repugnant to the elevated and ardent desires of 
his soul, to solitude and to books 5 and when compelled 
entirely to leave his school and pursue from day to day 
the twisting of ivorsted, which he calls the worst part of 
his father's business, his grief was poignant and Iris regret 
.severe. But religion in early life, assumed in him her 
mildest and most amiable forms. Its characters were 
those of uncomplai ning acquiescence in the will of God., 
and cheerful resignation to his earthly lot. If, indeed, 
with patient submission to the arrangements of Provi- 
dence he occasionally mingled a warm expression of 
desire, and suffered his imagination to dwell upon. the 
bright visions of better days, and the animating pro,' ; « e 
of pursuits more congenial to the tone and inclination 
of his mind, which hope would give, till, for a moment, 
it seemed reluctant to return 5— -it was natural; — nor 
is it incompatible with the most perfect resignation t© 
the divine will thus to dwell on scenes of promised 
pleasure with delight. Such a combination of light and 
shade is beautiful in nature 5 and not unfiequently in 
the history of a Christian's feelings does the sunshine 
of resignation break in upon the tears of sorrow, and 
produce a commixture of indefinable feelings, which, 
like the bow of heaven, are a pledge not unredeemed, of 
fairer scenery and happier days. 

The writer, in thus recording the mingled feelings of 
his friend, has participated too deeply in circumstances 
and emotions similar to his, not to do it with the v armtlt 
of sympathy. He knows how hard it is to give a cheer- 
ful and undivided attention to one pursuit, though less 
repugnant than mechanical employ, when the heait is 
intently fixed upon another, 111 does the mind adapt 



it) MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

itself to tlie narrow rules of business, the drudgery of 
manual labour, or the habits of commerce, when panting 
after study, devoted to the love of books, or eager to 
engage in the noblest work that dan occupy the powers 
of man, — the ministry of the gospel : — impressed with 
a consciousness, that if it is the will of God that the de> 
?ire enkindled and cherished in the bosom should be 
fulfilled, some event will transpire to afford facilities 
and point the way, — but day after day expecting that 
event in vain, till hope deferred makes the heart sick, 
and all the visions with which she has charmed, seem 
gradually yielding to the influence of despair. Yet 
even here, religion has a power to sooth ; she sheds the 
milder influence of resignation, when the glare of hope 
•s gone,-* 

•" Gives even affliction a grace, 
io And reconciles man to Lis lot." 

"J le continued working at his father's business and in 
[»is father's house, for about a year and a half, anxiously 
expecting some situation to present itself more conge- 
uial to his wishes, but no circumstance arose to inter- 
1 upt the monotonous sameness of his every day's em- 
ploy. It seems, however, that he still attended to the 
cultivation of his mind, and never wholly lost sight of 
the Christian ministry. Meanwhile business languish- 
ed^ and his father was desirous of seeing him comfort- 
ably settled. Their mutual anxiety incr easi ng to impa- 
tience, and his rather reading on the cover of a Maga- 
zine an advertisement for a situation which appeared 
to be suitable, they set out for London, but upon an 
interview with the .advertiser they found insuperable 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 17 

difficulties in the way, and returned, with disappoint- 
ment, to Hertford. 

Some weeks after this fruitless journey, Mr. Spencer 
was recommended by a friend to place his son with 
Messrs. Winwood and Thodey, respectable glovers in 
the Poultry, who also introduced him to Mr. Thodey J 3 
notice. The first interview between the parties was sat- 
isfactory; every arrangement was made preparatory 
to his being bound apprentice, and Thomas soon after 
entered, in a new capacity, this worthy gentleman's 
house. The services connected with his new situation, 
the better part of which was far from grateful to the 
wishes of his heart, still panting for the ministry with 
unconquerable attachment, were some of them such as 
his spirit, at first, but reluctantly submitted to perform 5 
yet aware that then the providence of God pointed out 
no other path, he cheerfully acquiesced and exchanged, 
not without regret, the calm and tranquil enjoyments of 
an endeared domestic circle, for the bosom of stran- 
gers, the drudgery of a shop, and the bustle of the 
Poultry.— But here, as formerly at school, his amiable 
manners — his modest behaviour, and engaging appear- 
ance, soon won the affection of the family, (which was 
large,) whilst his fervent piety and superior talents, 
excited emotions of a holier cider. An extract of a 
letter, obligingly addressed to me from Mr. Thodey 
himself, will best record his manner of life, whilst un- 
der that gentleman's roo£ 

" His appearance, his genuine modesty, diligence 
and integrity, created an interest in our hearts, so as it 
were almost to identify him as one of our own chil- 



to MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER> 

dren ; he shared our privileges ; united with us in £am«- 
ily devotion 5 and I occasionally took the same oppor- 
tunities of conversing with him on divine things, which 
I had been accustomed to do with all those under my 
care. I well recollect one Sabbath evening, being thus 
engaged with him alone, when from his pertinent replies 
to some questions I put to him about the concerns 
of his soul and the importance of an interest in the Sa- 
viour, I perceived he possessed an uncommon share of 
talent and intellect. This conversation gave me an 
impressive idea of his general knowledge of the doc- 
trines of the gospel, and I saw in him the traits of a 
very strong and ardent mind." 

Whilst at Mr. Thodey's he conscientiously devoted 
himself to promote the interests of his employers, not- 
withstanding his natural aversion to business. He 
even became peculiarly attached to the family, and re- 
ceiving from them tokens of affectionate attention, su- 
perior to any thing he had a right to expect, and of 
which he always spoke with gratitude, he became as 
happy as the circumstances of his lot could possibly al- 
low him to be. He formed an acquaintance with sev- 
eral pious young men, who, though rather above his 
station, did not hesitate to respect genius and relig- 
ion, even in a lad of inferior rank in life. Several 
times, also, he exercised his preaching -talents at the 
house of a relation of the young man who was then his 
fellow servant, but was afterwards a student in the 
same academy with himself, and is now a useful min- 
ister of the gospel.* 

* The Rev. Thomas Heward, of Clare, to whom I cheerfully 
take this opportunity of publicly rendering' my thanks for several 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 19 

He describes the exercises of his mind and the mode 
in which he passed his time, during his residence in 
the Poultry, with great simplicity and feeling. 

" At this place my time was entirely employed, as 
it was fit it should be, in executing the will of my two 
masters; for the young man, who was active and 
friendly, I formed a great attachment, and was indeed 
interested in the welfare of the whole family. Marks 
of respect were shown me, which were I believe unu- 
sual to any of my predecessors. I made myself upon 
the whole tolerably comfortable ; some difficulties and 
disagreeable circumstances of course fell to my lot, yet 
upon the whole I had many enjoyments. My ac- 
quaintance, whilst here, increased : with several young 
men, who indeed were rather above my station in life 5 
I was particularly intimate, and more than twice or 
thrice did I give an exhortation at the house of a rela- 
tive of the young man's, who was my fellow-servant. 
The opportunities I had of hearing the word were very 
delightful, and a higher relish was given to them by 
the toils and business of the week."* 

To youth who may be placed in similar circumstan- 
ces with the amiable subject of these memoirs, his mild 
and cheerful deportment in scenes so uncongenial to 
the bias of his mind, should prove a salutary and im- 
pressive lesson. Impatience and fretfulness are but ill 
adapted to the furtherance of any design, and a dispo- 
sition to murmur, under the arrangements of our pres- 
ent lot, marks a state of mind most unfriendly to the 

interesting- letters of Mr. Spencer's, which will appear in these 
pages, 

* M. S. Memoirs-, 



"10 memoirs of Spencer. 

patient sufferance of the toils, the anxieties and the 
disappointments inseparably connected with the min- 
isterial life 5 and whilst it is an obvious fact, that every 
young man possessed of piety cannot be employed as 
a preacher of the gospel, to such as conceive themselves 
endowed with talents for that solemn office, and yet 
are placed in circumstances, which seem to forbid the 
indulgence of a hope they still cherish with an anxious 
pleasure 5 — 4o such, the subsequent history of Mr. Spen- 
cer, will afford another striking proof, in an innumera- 
ble series, — that where God has actually called and 
qualified an individual for the ministry, he will, in his 
own time and by unexpected methods, make the path 
of duty plain before that individual's feet. Let no one, 
then, rashly attempt to break the connected chain of 
opposing circumstances by which his providence may 
have surrounded him ; but rather wait in patience till 
the hand that has thus encircled him opens up a pas- 
sage, and by events, which may justly be considered 
as intimations of the divine will, invites him to ad- 
vance. 

These remarks, the result of frequent observations 
on the ways of God in cases similar to this, not im- 
properly connect the future scenes of Mr. Spencer's 
life, with those we have already contemplated. For 
the time was now arrived, that the cloud which had 
hovered over his future prospects should be dissipat- 
ed, and another path,—- a path to which he had from 
infancy directed his attention with fond anticipation 
and intense desire, present its varied and momentous 
objects of pursuit for the cheerful, but, alas ! the short- 
lived exercise of his superior powers. After a residence 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 9A 

of about four months with his employers in the Poultry, 
circumstances occurred of such a nature as to render 
Ids services no longer necessary, on which account he 
left London and returned for awhile to his parents at 
Hertford ; but some time previous to the event which 
caused his departure from London, he had been intro- 
duced to the notice of Thomas Wilson, Esq. the benev- 
olent and indefatigable Treasurer of the Academy for 
educating young men for the work of the ministry, at 
Hoxton. Mr. Wilson perceived in him piety and tal- 
ents far above his years. His whole appearance and his 
engaging manners excited in that gentleman's breast, an 
interest in this amiable youth, which he never lost, and 
he gave it as his decided opinion, (without elating him 
with a hope, of the ultimate failure of which, there was 
still a probability,) that his views should in some way or 
other be directed towards the ministry. 

This revolution in Mr. Spencer's affairs was not 
unnoticed or unimproved by Mr. Wilson, who wisely 
regarding it as a favourable opportunity for carrying 
into effect those generous designs respecting him, which 
from their first interview he had cherished, sent for 
him 5 conversed with him upon the subject, and intro- 
duced him to the Rev. William Hordle, of Harwich, a 
gentleman to whose care some of the young men were 
committed, whose youth or other circumstances did 
not allow of their immediate entrance into the Acade- 
my, though they were considered as proper objects of 
its patronage. To this gentleman, at length, Mr. Wil- 
son proposed to send Mr. Spencer for trial of his talents 
,and piety, and for preparatory studies; a proposition 
to which Mr, Spencer acceded with unfeigned gratitude 



LM-iLJIOIRS OF 3PEXCER. 

and jo j. The time fixed for his entrance into Mr. Hor- 
dle's family was January, 1806. The interval between 
this period and that of his departure from the Foul- 
'.ry, which was in October, 1805, he spent in his father's 
bouse, and for the most part in his father's business. 
Though this was repugnant to his feelings, he had yet 
\ earned, by five months' absence, in the bustle of a shop 
m the city, to appreciate the calm and tranquil pleasures 
q£ a domestic circle, to which he became mere endeared 
as the lovely qualities of his mind unfolded, and the 
dignified and pleasing prospects of his future life were 
disclosed. But though considerable light was thrown 
upon his destiny, yet on leaving London it was not 
finally determined ; and this pressed with peculiar 
weight upon his spirit, which, susceptible of, the slightest 
emotion, must have deeply felt in leaving one scene of 
action, the uncertainty which as yet partially veiled 
from him that which should succeed. Of the day of 
his departure he thus writes : — 4i I anticipated it with 
mingled emotions ; a strong desire to see my father, 
mother, brother and sisters, a sensation of sorrow at 
parting with my old friends, and the idea of uncertainty 
as to my future engagements in life, equally affected me. 
Although I had been absent from home but five months, 
the desire I had again to see Hertford was very great, 
nor do I suppose I shall often spend more pleasant 
evenings than the first one I spent at home, after the 
first time of being absent for any considerable season ; 
two or three days were spent in seeing other relations 
and friends, .till — ."* 
Here the nartatrve, first referred to, and often quot- 
*.M.S, Memo.r-s, 



ed, written by his own hand, and evidently for hi* 
own use, abruptly closes 5 and here for a moment his 

biographer will pause. It is a charming domestic 

piece, which the hand of his departed friend, obedient 
to the warm and vivid recollections of his fervent 
mind, has sketched 5 but scarcely has he pictured to 
himself the countenances of that interesting group 
which gathered around him again to bid him welcome- 
to his father's house, and committed the rude outline to 
his paper, than he is suddenly called off, and lays down 
the recording pen for ever ! So did his life abruptly 
terminate ; but the mysterious voice that summoned 
him from his endeared connexions upon earth intro- 
duced his emancipated spirit to the bosom of a happier 
family above — -not another family, but one most inti- 
mately connected with his own, for which whilst here 
he cherished such a warm affection. The sentiment 
this sentence breathes was familiar to himself, and oft- 
en seen in the energy and fervour with which he would 
repeat these admirable lines of Kelly : — 

One family, we dwell in him 5 

One church above, beneath, 
Though now divided by the stream, 

The narrow stream of death. 

One army of the living God* 
I'o his command we bow ; 

Part of the host have cross'd the flood, 
And part are crossing now. 

Ten thousand to their endless home 

This awful moment fly ; 
And we are to the margin come, 

. ^ nd soon exp ect to die. 1 



24 MEMOIRS OS SPENCEIt. 

Dear Jesus, be our constant guide ; 

Then when the word is giv'n, 
Bid death's cold stream and flood divide 

And land us safe in heav'n. 

At Harwich Mr. Spencer was completely in his ele- 
ment. He commenced the year 1806 in Mr. Hordles 
family, and was then about completing the fifteenth of 
Iris own life. At this interesting age, when the pow- 
ers of the mind begin rapidly to unfold,— when a tone 
is often given to the future cast of thought, and senti- 
ments and habits arc imbibed and formed, which con- 
stitute the basis or become the germ of the matured 
and finished character ; — it was a circumstance pecu- 
liarly auspicious in the history of this lamented youth, 
that he was introduced to the pious and enlightened 
care of such a man as Mr. Hordle. In his preaching, 
in his lectures, and in his conversation, he saw most 
admirably applied, those elementary principles of theo- 
logical science, the scholastic forms of which must else 
have been unintelligible or insipid to his mind. In the 
liberal and sacred current of his habitual thought, Mr. 
-Spencer would find a safe channel for the yet infant 
•stream of his own conceptions ; whilst he would im- 
perceptibly form his character upon that mild, correct., 
and amiable model, constantly before him. 

It must be of incalculable advantage to a young man 
destined for the Christian ministry, as it evidently was 
to our departed Spencer, to pass a year or two beneath 
a faithful and enlightened pastor's roof, — to be a spec- 
tator of his toil, — a daily witness of the varied scenes 
of duty and of trial which the Christian ministry per- 
petually presents. J* is true, tbat in academies., lee- 



JIBMOIRS OF SPENCER. £5 

hires on the pastoral care are read, and discourses on 
the duties of the Christian ministry delivered ; hut one 
week of actual observation must impress more deeply 
on the mind all that such lectures can contain, and un- 
numbered other circumstances, equally important, but 
which no general analysis can include, than months or 
years of the most devoted study. And to the diligent 
improvement of this peculiar advantage, perhaps, may 
in part be attributed that early maturity at which Mn 
Spencer's capacity for the sacred office had arrived. 
He had the seriousness, the reflection of the pastor 
while but a student ; and when he actually entered on 
that holy office, the exercises of the pulpit, and the 
habits of his ministerial life, bespoke the knowledge 
of long experience, rather than' of recent theory? and 
indicated the presence of a master's, no* a learner's 
hand. 

At Harwich his diligence was exemplary.* ajudi* 
dous course of reading was marked out for him by his 
respected tutor, which he conscientiously and unweari- 
edly pursued ; but besides this, he had the use of an 
excellent library, with rich supplies from which he am- 
ply occupied his leisure hours. He had made consid- 
erable progress in the Latin : and soon after his intro- 
duction to Mr. Hordle, he commenced, under his direc- 
tion, the study of the Hebrew. "With this sacred lan- 
guage he was particularly pleased, and soon demon- 
strated his attachment and his diligence, by completing 
with considerable labour, an abridgement of Parkhurst's 
Ijebrew Lexicon, This work he acooEiplisfed in a 



26 MEMOIRS OF SPENDER. 

small pocket manual, which proved of considerable use 
to him, and was almost his constant companion.* 

Here, too, he first became acquainted with the prin- 
ciples of Moral Philosophy; and whilst from the lec- 
tures of Doddridge, and the essays of Locke, his mind 
derived vigour and energy ; from the study of the Latin 
poets, and the classic authors of our own country, it 
gained amusement, and his compositions gradually as- 
sumed an air of elegance and ease. 

But not only in literature and science was his pro- 
gress conspicuous during his residence at Harwich; 
but he also made considerable advances in the knowl- 
edge and experience of divine things. That in the 
midst of all his studies, which yet he pursued with dil- 
igence and ardour, religion was the object of his chief 
regard and dearesi to his heart, is evident from the 
uniform strain of his letters to his most intimate and 
beloved friend Mr. Heward, whose fellow labourer he 
had been at Mr. Thodey's, and the privation of whose 
society he seemed deeply to deplore. His views of 
the Christian ministry became more and more consist- 
ent, and the impression of its vast importance more 
deep and solemn on his mind. The intense desire 
with which he panted for that sacred and honourable 
office became tempered, though never checked, by an 
awe of its vast responsibility, and a consciousness of 

* Of this manual he made two fair copies, one of which is in 
possession of his tutor, and the other is amongst the papers from 
which these Memoirs are supplied. The design is honourable to 
his judgment, and the execution to his perseverance and his accs- 
racy at that early age. 



MEMOIRS OF &PENCER* $7 

incapacity for the full discharge of its numerous and 
laborious duties. 

With Mr. Hordle he would sometimes indulge in the 
most free and unreserved converse on the state of his 
heart, and his private walk with God. In such con- 
versations he was always much affected, and suscepti- 
ble, from the constitution of his nature, of the most 
delicate impressions and the keenest feelings, it may 
be well supposed that in religion he would deeply feel. 
Hence the tenderness of his conscience, and the sus- 
ceptibility of his mind, would often overwhelm his bo- 
-som with convictions of guilt, and agitate him with un- 
numbered inward conflicts. Yet in the midst of all he 
evidently grew in spiritual strength — his mind acquir- 
ed confidence — his principles became daily more and 
more confirmed — and he had advanced far in a deep 
and experimental acquaintance with the ways of God 
at an age when such advancement is rarely to be 
found. 

Whilst at Harwich he regularly shared with Mr. H. 
the pleasing duty of conducting the devotions of the 
family, and frequently performed the sacred service 
with an enlargement of heart, a fervour and propriety 
of expression truly astonishing. But this was a cir- 
cumstance he particularly wished should be concealed ; 
his modesty and diffidence shrunk from the observa- 
tion of men, even of his nearest friends ; and in one 
of his letters to his friend* he writes, " My situation 
is comfortable, more so than ever ; I am considered 
like one of the family 5. of an evening I generally, by 

*Mr, He ward, 



38 MEJI05RS OF SPENC£H>. 

Mr. H.'s desire, engage in family prayer, he in the 
morning. O tell it to nobody on any account. When 
he is out I always do." 

To those who knew not the beloved original, the 
outlines of whose character these pages but imperfect- 
ly present, the detail of minute particulars may be 
uninteresting and insipid 5 but those who were famil- 
iar with, him will dwell with pleasure on the faintest 
lineament that may be here preserved of a dear depart- 
ed friend, so ardently, so deservedly esteemed 5 whilst 
a combination of these varied and retired beauties may 
fbrm a portrait on which the eye of a stranger may 
dwell with admiration, and the mind reflect with profits 
It is in confidence of this that his biographer pauses to 
record another and a pleasing trait in his character at 
this early age — the peculiar warmth and constancy of 
his friendship. He seems, indeed, at this period to 
have had but one bosom friend, except those of his 
own immediate family ; to him his letters breathe an 
affection the most glowing, spiritual, and pure ; and 
perhaps no little incident more strikingly displays the 
tender cast of his mind than that which he himself 
relates, with great simplicity, in a letter to his friend : — 

" This morning we read (Mr. H. and myself) the 
second night of Young's Night Thoughts — the very 
place that treats of friendship ; I was rather affected at 
the reading of it 5 and after it was finished, and we 
were alone, I told him (Mr. H.) I was no stranger to 
Young's sentiments in that place. He asked me 6 If I 
had lost any friends r' I told him no — not by death. 
He asked me « if I had by treachery ?' no. Sir. < How 
£hen r Only by separation P* 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCRR. 29 

Thus in pleasant and familiar intercourse with one 
for whom he mingled veneration with affection, and of 
whom he never ceased to speak with all the rapturous 
energy of gratitude and filial love — in exercises and 
pursuits every way adapted to satisfy his ardent thirst 
of knowledge — in scenes and in society congenial to 
the tone and bias of his mind — in conscientious prepar- 
ation for closer studies and severer labour, previous to 
his entrance on that sacred office long the object of his 
choice — and in deep communion with himself and God 
— did he pass the allotted period of his stay at Har- 
wich. 

As the term (a year) fixed for his residence with Mr. 
Hordle drew towards its close, his anxiety considera- 
bly increased ; he anticipated, with regret, a departure 
from scenes and society so much endeared to him ; and 
the trial through which he was to pass previous to his 
admission into the academy at Hoxton, when viewed 
in connexion with his youth, excited in his mind con- 
siderable apprehension and dread. But the hope of 
success never entirely abandoned him; whilst the 
pleasing prospect of being again associated with his 
friend, who had by this time entered as a student in 
the same academy, tended not a little to gladden and 
animate his heart. 

In November he drew up a statement of his religious 
experience, his views of theological truth, and his rea- 
sons for desiring the Christian ministry, according to 
a standing order of the academy with respect to young 
jnen proposing themselves as candidates for its patron- 
age. These papers, written in a style of dignified &ffc 



30 2fE.HO IRS OF SPEXGER. 

pliciCy, and disclosing a knowledge and experience of 
divine things, which in a youth, scarcely sixteen years 
of age, must have excited the admiration of all to whom 
they were submitted, — were duly presented to the 
committee, and passed, though not without some diffi- 
culty, arising from his age ; but the extraordinary qual- 
ifications he appeared to possess, and the strong rec- 
ommendations of his friend and tutor, Mr. Hordle, 
overcame this obstacle, and the 5th of January follow- 
ing was appointed for his personal appearance before 
the constituents of that institution, in order to give 
them a specimen of his talents for public speaking. 

Mr. Spencer left Mr. Hordle's family on the 18th 
of December, and spent the interval of time between 
his departure from Harwich and the day of his exam- 
ination at Hoxton (which was postponed to the Tth of 
January) at his father's house at Hertford. 

Whose imagination does not follow this beloved 
youth into the bosom of his family again ; who does 
not picture to himself the charming scenes of social and 
domestic joy his presence would inspire. With what 
tenderness and affection would his venerable father 
bid Mm welcome to Ms paternal home again ; with 
what delight would he gaze upon the animated features 
of Ms countenance, smiling in all the ingenuousness of 
youth 5 while with nobler feelings of delight he marked 
the unfolding graces of Ms mind, saw his improvement 
in the best of sciences — religion, and beheld him daily 
srowing in favour both with God and man. With what 
adoring gratitude would they retrace together the 
scenes of his childhood, and the many alarming obsta- 
cles which once almost forbad the indulgence of a hope 



J1EM0I11S OF SPENCEIl, 31. 

that the object of their ardent wish would ever be ob- 
tained 5 and how, in the transport of those happy hours, 
would his family anticipate for him they loved, in the fu- 
ture stages of an honourable ministry, years of useful- 
ness and comfort. Ah ! pleasing visions never to be 
realized ! Little did that interesting group conceive 
that it was his appointed lot but just to taste the joys 
and sorrows of a pastor's life, and then expire. Al- 
ready they had seen the bud swelling with fulness — 
teeming with life ; now they beheld the blossom, and 
admired its beauty $ and they thought long to gaze up- 
on the promised charms of the unfolded flower 5 happy 
strangers of the melancholy and mysterious fact, that 
so soon as it had opened it must be suddenly cut down 
and die ! But such and so frail is man — " In the morn* 
ing they are like grass that groweth up, in the evening 
it is cut down and wWtereth. "-—Psalm xc. 5, 6. Such 
and so uncertain is human life — " It is even as a va- 
pour, that appeareth for a little time, and tlien vanish- 
eth away."— James iv. 14. 

At this interesting period of Mr. Spencer's life it 
will be perhaps gratifying to the reader to pause, and 
gain a more familiar acquaintance with him, than can 
be supplied by a narration of events and circumstances 
in his history, by perusing some extracts from his cor- 
respondence and other papers, which will throw much 
light upon the formation of his character, and afford a 
pleasing specimen of his early genius. 

I have now before me a packet of letters addressed 
to his friend Mr. Reward, dated at various periods, 
from October, 1805, to December, 1806. Though at the 
commencement *>f this correspondence he had not at 8 - 



32 afEMOIRS OS SPESOEj... 

tained his 15th year, tliese letters breathe a spirit of 
the purest piety, and often express sentiments by 
which age would not be dishonoured, in a stvle re- 
markably correct and vigorous. But the reader shall 
participate with me in the pleasure which the perusal 
of this interesting correspondence — this simple and 
unaffected utterance of early piety and friendship, has 
afforded me.. 

No. 1. 

Hertford, Oct. 16, 1805. 

u > As for the manner in which I have 



and do employ my time : my father employs me either 
in writing or in his business, more than I expected. 
What leisure time I do have, which is but little, I em- 
ploy in reading, writing, and meditation. I hope he 
will not press upon me that employment which I dis- 
like, but which however I have been engaged in. 

" Mr. Wilson wrote a letter to my father, the sub- 
stance of whieh is as follows : he informs him that if 
it is possible he will get a minister to take me, in order 
to see more of my piety and talents 5 and hopes that 
it will be agreeable for me to be at home with my fa- 
ther till Christmas. 

K These are the circumstances under which I am 
now placed. I know it is my duty to be submissive 
and resigned to the will of God, but this is a lesson 
which, like all others, is to be learned at the cross of 
Christ : 'tis there alone, my dear friend, we can study 
all heavenly graces and duties—- — ■ — . ?? 



1 



MEMOIRS OP SPESfCEB* #£ 

It is pleasing to observe with what deep seriousnesk 
of niind he conducted those favourite exercises in ex-i 
hortation and in preaching, before referred to,* and 
with what humility and even thankfulness he listened 
to the animadversions of any who were disposed to 
criticise. In another part of the same letter he says — ■ 

« I am not without hope, that I shall praise 

and adore a blessed God, for the ill opinions those per- 
sons formed of me, who heard me preach at Mn T 's. 

Methinks I cannot be thankful enough to you for 
informing: me of it. It has I trust made me more 
watchful and prayerful than before, that I may be 
accounted righteous not in the sight of men, but in 
the view of a ein-aven^ing God. Thus we may see a 
little of the dealings of Providence with his children. 
When he distresses them in any way he does it for 
their good. All things, saith the inspired Apostle, 
work together for good to them that love God, and are 
the called according to his purpose.— Since that even- 
ing I have felt a little mere comfort in my own mind 
respecting eternal things. God forbid it should be a 
false peace. Hope you keep close to a throne of grace 
in personal prayer. 'Tis from thence we are to draw 
all our comfort ; 'tis there we can get a soul -transform- 
ing spiritual view of Jesus 5 "tis from thence we get 
every necessary weapon, wherewith to combat our spir- 
itual enemies. 

" So often called away to attend to different things, 
like you I cannot say I have written such a letter as I 
could wish. If I should be placed under a minister, 
I think I should have more opportunity for writing long 

'* See Page 19. 



r£4 JIEMOIRS OF 9PENCES. 

letters. — However, let us, whenever an opportunity 
offers, write to each other. Such love as ours is not 
easily quenched. Let us then manifest it by writing 
to each other, so as to stir up one another to the exercise 
of every Christian grace. Still let us keep our eye 
upon the Lord Jesus Christ, and be constantly concern- 
ed to honor his holy name, by a consistent walk and 
conversation. Then shall we meet to part no more, 
and dwell forever with our Jesus, in upper, better, 
brighter worlds. 



s 



" The soul that on Jesus has lean'd for repose, 
He will not, he cannot, desert to his foes : 
That soul tho* all hell should endeavour to shake, 
He'll never, no never, no never forsake." 



Soon after it was determined that he sbould go to 
Harwich for a twelvemonth, he wrote again to his friend 
Mr. Hew ard, and the following extract from his letter, 
shows the humble, grateful, and devotional habit of his 
mind : — 

No. 2. 

Hertford, November 12, 1805. 

ii _» 1 join with you in saying, ' how r wonder- 
ful are God's ways.' We indeed little thought that 
Mr. H. was the person under whom I should be in- 
structed, when we were at Hoxton, hearing him preach, 
or I, when I breakfasted with him : at the same time, I 
cannot forbear adoring that favour winch is shewn to 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. Q5 

me from God : me who am utterly unworthy of the 
least of all God's mercies. Goodness and mercy have 
hitherto followed me, and, I doubt not, will through 
life. May that goodness which was so gloriously dis- 
played in the salvation of sinners, and that mercy which 
has snatched so many brands from the burning, be our 
consolation all through life — -our joy in death — and the 
burden of our song to all eternity." 



The following observations are worthy of a much 
older pen, and display a judgment and discretion, rath- 
er unusual in a lad, not yet fifteen years of age. 

No. 3. 

November 13„ 

" You informed me in your last, that your desires 
for the work of the ministry had not at all abated. I 
sincerely wish that they may be fulfilled, and that you 
and I may be fellow labourers in the Lord's vineyard, 
God certainly can do this for us ; let us pray that he 
may. You still appear dubious of your own ability 
for that important w r ork. I would have you consider, 
that God w r orks by whom he will work. He has many 
ministers in his church, real sent ministers, who have 
not those great gifts that distinguish many of his ser~ 
vants ; and not only so, but these men have often been 
the means of doing more good than those of great tal- 
ents — and what is the reason of this ? Even so, Father, 
for so it seemed good in thy sight, — is all that we must 
.say. And you, my worthy friend, should also r$mem- 



S6 MEMOIRS O? SPENCER. 

ber, that as yet, you cannot form any idea of your owft 
abilities. As I have often told you, when I lived with 
you, I doubt not your abilities, when improved by 
application to study, &c. will be as fit for that employ, 
(if the will of God) as any other, God, you know, in 
every thing acts as a sovereign : < I will work, ami 
who shall let it,' is his language — will work by the 
feeblest means, and the weakest instruments. I hope 
you will still be kept low in your own eyes, for that, I 
am sure, is one quality, or rather property, of a gospel 
minister. At our best estate we are altogether vanity, 
and less than nothing. May the Lord keep us all 
truly humble. Luther used to say, there were three 
things made a minister — affliction, meditation, and 
prayer : that is, sanctified affliction, scriptural medita- 
tion, and earnest prayer ; in which last particular I 
hope you are perpetually engaged. Pray, my dear 
friend, for direction of God — pray for grace, which is 
of more value, by far, than great gifts, and say in the 
language of resignation, hope, and faith — < Here am i, 
Lord, send me to labour in thy vineyard.' You have 
appealed to me in saying, < You well know, I shall 
never rely on my own strength for success and useful- 
ness.' — I know you will not, (at least whilst in your 
present mind) and I pray that God would keep you 
still so determined. Let us then pray, that v;e may 
both of us be made able, useful, and humble ministers 
of the New Testament. 

u j arn g] a{ ] to find, that you generally 

hear three times a day. Young men, who wish to be 
ministers, cannot hear too much of the gospel, provided 
they are anxious to improve on what they do hear- — »'* 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 3/ 

I shall present the reader with nearly the whole of 
the following letter 5 and I think, that few will be 
found, on the perusal, who deem it unworthy of preser- 
vation. It contains a pleasing grateful (and the more 
pleasing as it is entirely uninfluenced) tribute to the 
memory of departed worth— discloses the deep atten- 
tion and care with which its writer was, at that early 
age, accustomed to hear and reflect upon sermons, and 
shews how incessant and uniform was the panting of 
his heart for the Christian ministry. 

No. 4. 

Hertford, November 18, 180 5. 

<" MY DEAREST FRIEND. 

f I expected to have heard from you before now, 
but as I have not, it becomes me to bear the disappoint- 
ment with fortitude and resolution, hoping that it will 
not be long before I have a few lines from you. On 
Saturday last, I heard that, that good and worthy man 
Mr. Winwood was dead. It will, I doubt not, be a 
•great stroke to the family 5 but I am well assured, that 
to him death was eternal gain. Truly, the righteous 
hcdh hope in his death. May you and I both be found 
at the last day on the right hand of the Judge with our 
respected master ! While he is tuning his harp to tin 
praises of a precious Jesus, we have to combat wit! 
many enemies 5 we have many trials to pass under 

Before we reach the heavenly fields, 
Or walk the golden streets !.* 

* Alas ! lamented youth ! little did he, or the friead t© whor 
he wrote, 'imagine how f'ew his trials— how short his A'.ufe 
4 



38 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

We shall, I am persuaded, feel our own depravity in 
many instances here below, ere we join with him in 
everlasting songs above ; but if we are enlisted under 
the banners — >the blood-stained banners of the cross, 
we shall certainly arrive there. Let us then seek, ear- 
nestly seek, after the one thing needful ; and whilst 
earthly objects vanish and decay in our estimation; 
nay, whilst the world dies daily in our view, and its per- 
ishing things appear in their proper light — may we feel 
our hearts panting after the wells of salvation— our 
souls, with all their faculties, engaged in the noblest of 
all undertakings — -our feet running in the good ways of 
God — our tongues making mention of his righteousness, 
and of his only — in short, may we be crucified to the 
world — risen with Christ — and transformed into his di- 
vine image and likeness. This, I trust, I can say is my 
desire, and I know it is the earnest wish of my dear 
friend. 

" Sabbath-day, Nov. 15th, I heard Mr. M f-, at 

Cowbridge, in the morning, from 1 Thes. v. 8. ' But 
lei us, who are of the day, be sober, putting on the breast- 
plate of faith and love, and for an helmet the hope of 
scdvationS He first shewed what was implied in 
Christians being of the day ; secondly, enforced the ex- 
hortation of the text. To be of the day, he said, impli- 
ed — 1. a state of knowledge 5 2. safety ; 3. comfort, 

should prove — and how soon the pious desire of his heart should 
be, as it respected himself, fulfilled : such and so mysterious are 
the ways of God — Spencer is early summoned to his rest, but his 
companion is left, still to maintain the conflict, whilst he mourns 
his loss — " two men shall be in the field, the one shall be taken 
rmd the ollter left."*— Matthew xxiv. 40. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 3$ 

&c. In enforcing the admonition, he exhorted them to 
the exercise of faith and love ; gave them good grounds 
for hope ; and shewed that these three graces had a ten- 
dency to comfort and strengthen believers. In the af- 
ternoon, from Acts xvii. 30, 31. ' Tne times of this 
ignorance God winked at, but now commandeth cdl men 
every where to repent, because he hath appointed a day 
in which he will judge the world in righteousness, by 
that man whom he hath ordained, whereof he hath given 
assurance unto all men, in that he hath raised him from 
the dead P He considered- — 1. the certainty of a future 
judgment 5 2. the person of the Judge 5 3. the circum- 
stances of the day ; 4. the necessity of repentance in- 
ferred from the text. He, indeed, is a worthy man, and 
appears well suited for a missionary. In the evening I 
heard Mr. L — — , at the Chapel, from John iii. 14. < For 
as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness,' &c. 
He said many good things, and is very earnest in the 

good cause. Last Lord's day we had Mr. M • again 5 

text in the morning, Heb. vi. 11. fi And we desire, that 
every one of you do shew the same diligence to the fall 
assurance of hope unto the end.' He considered — 1. the 
thing mentioned — the full assurance of hope 5 2. shewed 
that it might be attained 5 3. exhorted them to diligence 
in aspiring after it. Time and room forbid me to make 
any remarks upon the sermon (which was a good one) 
in the afternoon, from Acts xvi. 9. < And then stood a 
man of Macedonia and prayed him, saying, come over 
and help us.' In discoursing on it, he shewed — 1. that 
the heathens want help ; 2. that it is the duty of minis- 
ters and people to give it them ; and 3. that men should 
exert themselves for the purpose. It appeared like a col- 



40 MEMOIRS OF SPENCEH. 

lection sermon ; and he went afterwards and got a 1% 
tie money of a few friends at Hertford, for the mission 
to China. 

6i In the evening, having been previously invited, 
I went at six o'clock to Mr. K — - — .'s, to see the min- 
ister. I was there during family worship ; and after 
that, Mr. M. and self went up stairs to talk a little to- 
gether. He asked me about my learning, &c. then how 
long I had been seriously disposed, &c. He appealed 
satisfied with my answers, and asked me if I was not 
going into the country ; I told him ' yes.' He asked 
me if I should have an opportunity of attending to my 
books there. This naturally led to the whole affair ; 
he seemed glad, and asked me if I designed to be a min- 
ister in this country. I told him I wished to be quite 
resigned to the will of Providence in that matter. He 
gave me some good advice ; and then we knelt down, 
and he engaged in a short and affectionate prayer. I 
was much aftected with the advice, conversation, and 
prayer. 

u I am sensible that your attachment to 

me is as unshaken as ever. I hope you pray that both 
of us may be made ministers of the gospel ; and, in 
some future day, have our wishes respecting that com- 
pletely fulfilled. I am very desirous that you may be 
shortly placed in a situation in which you will have 
more leisure for reading, writing, studying, &c. O that 
you were going with me to Harwich. Still continue 
to pray for one who feels his own unworthiness for the 
service of his God, and yet wishes to be an instrument 
of doing great good to souls : and if I should not be 
very successful in my ministry? methinks it would be 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



reward enough to have laboured for God, and not to 
have been employed in the drudgery of Satan. 5 ' 



The next letter, to the same correspondent, contains 
a specimen of his talent for the composition of sermons 
at that age. It affords a pleasing proof of his early 
skill in the practice of an art, in which he eventually 
so much excelled. 

No. 5. 

Hertford, December S, 1805, 

if I have sent you my thoughts upon (or 

rather my way of discussing) that text Mr. Knight 
preached from. I hope your candour will excuse im- 
perfections. I never read any thing upon it, and it is 
the production of a boy. 

Matthew v. 20. 

& For I say unto you, that except your righteousness 
shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Phar- 
isees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of 
heaven." 

GENERAL HEADS. 

1st.* — Explain the nature of the righteousness 
of the Scribes and Pharisees. 

2d.— Shew in what respects our righteousness 
must exceed theirs. 

3d. — Notice the consequences of possessing A 
righteousness no better than theirs, 
*4 



42- MEM0IR.9 01? S-FE^i^Ri 

1st Head. — Explain the nature, &c. 
It was self-righteousness. — Luke xviii. 9. 

1-st. — This righteousness is founded in ignorance 

Of God's nature, 

Of the spirituality of his law, 

Of the deceitfulness of the heart, 

And of the true method of salvation. 
2d Head. — Skew in what respects our right- 
eousness SHOULD EXCEED THEIRS. 

The righteousness here termed < yours' is the right- 
eousness of Christ, which becomes ours by imputation, 
in the same manner as our sins became Christ's. This 
righteousness thus becoming ours, exceeds the right- 
eousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, 

1st. — In its origin. It is divine — the other human, op 
Satanic ; as we doubt not, Satan first infused serf- 
righteous thoughts into the minds of men, &e. 
3d, — Its nature and particular properties. 
This righteousness 
Delivers us from bondage, 
Saves us from sin, 
Gives us holiness of life, 
Makes us victorious in death, 
Joyful in judgment, and 
Happy through all eternity. 
The righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees can- 
not do this* 

But our Lord might also allude to that righteousness 
which is implanted in us, as well as that which is im- 
puted to us, and that far exceeds the righteousness of 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 43 

the Scribes and Pharisees in its effects, which are real 
good works, which 

Spring from a good motive, 

Are directed to a good purpose, 

And have a good end. 
These works are not meritorious, but serve for the 
justification of our faith, not of our persons, and they 
far exceed the legal performances of the self-righteous.. 

3d Head.— -Notice the consequences of possessing 

A RIGHTEOUSNESS NO BETTER THAN THEIRS. 

Ye shall in no case enter into, Sfc. 
1st. — Here we must necessarily dwell a little upon 
the nature of the kingdom of heaven. — Consider 

1. The person of the King. 

2. The happiness of the subjects. 

3. The eternal duration of iiis reign, &c. 

3d. — How dreadful a thing to be shut out of this king- 
dom. 
3&.>—Hoiv peculiarly striking is the language of the 
Saviour — >ye shall in no case, Sfc. 
Notwithstanding all your professions, long prayers,* 
alms givings, &c. < Fe shall in no case enter into the 
kingdom of heaven. 9 

From this subject we draw a few inferences. 
1.— • We may learn from hence, the evil nature of sin. 
If ail self -righteousness be so bad, what must un- 
righteousness be ? 
%* — We here see the only true method of salvation-— the 

righteousness of Christ. 
3. — -How necessary is daily, serious self-eocaminatioli^ 
. in order to ascertain to which class we belong. 



44 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

4.— >We likewise infer the necessity of prayer, for in- 
struction and grace. 

5. — How dreadful is the case of the self-righteous char- 
acter. 

6. — The believer may hence draw some comfort. He is 
interested in Jesus Christ, and shall outride all the 
storms and troubles of life, sing the dear name of 
Jesus in the hour of death, and stand unmoved 
amidst the jarring elements, ' the wreck of matter, 
and the crush of worlds.' 

" May the God of hope bless us both — fill us with 
all joy and peace in believing — enlarge our spiritual 
coast — give us to see more and more of the sinfulness 
of our nature — the depravity of our hearts— the im- 
perfection of our graces — the small ness of our knowl- 
edge—the sufficiency of Jesus — the stability of our 
hope — the fulness of Christ. May he give us to see 
that our names are written in heaven — may he brighten 
up our evidences for glory — establish our faith — .enlarge 
our desires — and give us hungerings and thirstings after 
righteousness. May we enjoy the blessings of salva- 
tion— the sweetness of communion with God — the peace 
bought and purchased for us by Christ Jesus— and that 
joy in the Holy Ghost, produced by his influences— and 
may we learn more and mere of the - heights, lengths, 
depths, and breadths of the love which passeth knowl- 
edge. May we dwell together in that happy land, 
where none but Hae righteous can enter, and where our 
worship shall be undisturbed. 

" And now, my dear brother, I commend you to 
the hands of that God who doth all things well? and 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 45 

,who taketh eare of those who put their trust in him ; 
and hoping soon to hear from you, \ subscribe myself, 
" Your truly affectionate friend, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

N. B. " Remember me to . Pray for me, and 

may the Lord bless you. Amen." 

No. 6. 
Hertford, December 31, 1805. 

< s MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I think myself very happy in having such a friend 
as you prove yourself to be. I know affection to- 
wards me is too deeply rooted in you ever to ,Jbe era- 
sed by separation. Life's greatest blessing is a well 
chosen friend, and I do feel it so. You cannot ima- 
gine (only by your own feelings) what pleasure I take 
in recollecting past scenes, and recalling to the mind 
occurrences relating only to us, which never shall be 
forgotten. I hope we have the same 6 friend that stick - 
eth closer than a brother.' I am affected, peculiarly 
affected, when I read the solemn confessions you make 
of depravity, &c. You know Paul acknowledged him- 
self the chief of sinners. When, therefore, you are bow- 
ed down under a sense of sin, look unto Jesus^ there only 
salvation is to be found for those who, like you, are 
sensible of sin. But I verily believe my friend has 
already been washed in the fountain of his blood. Yes, 
I doubt not but you have passed from death unto life, 
and are called according to God's eternal purpose ; 
therefore, instead of writing bitter things against your- 
self? rejoice in Christ Jesus whilst you have no conii- 



46 MEMOIRS OF &PEK«ER. 

dence in the flesh. — Ah ! my friend, you know notfull^ 
how I have lifted up my puny arm in rebellion against 
God 5 so that I cannot think myself a whit behind the 
chief of sinners. Young as I am, I am a great sinner 5 
but blessed be God who has, I hope, given us both a good 
hope through grace : to him be all the glory. 

" I shall, I expect, be in town a day sooner than was 
intended, viz. Wednesday the 8th ; my father will not 

come till the next day. Mr. F , in his letter, 

mentions a desire that I would give them a lecture {in 
the old way) at his house in the evening. I am very 
willing to do it, and I hope we shall have your com- 
pany." 

No. 7: 

Hertford, January 5, 1806. 

>* MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

" With the greatest pleasure I received and read 
your kind but short letter : but I must not speak about 
its shortness, as mine must be as short, if not shorter, as 

I expect S 'to come for it directly. — Mr. Davies's 

sermon entitled, ' The Midnight Hour,' I understand, 
is printed. How glad I should have been to have heard 
it. I hope when I am in town you will remember your 
promise, and not forget the greatest part of the sermon, 
as you know how I respect (and like the preaching of) 
that worthy man.* I hope you will have a pleasant and 
profitable day next Sabbath at Finchley. I am afraid 
you cannot get out next Thursday, the day Nelson is 

* The Rev. Mr. Davies, of Queen-Street, Cheapside. London^ 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 4tf 

buried ; for I do assure you that your presence at any 
place in town would afford me more pleasure than the 
sight of his funeral, to which I do not intend to go. I 
have been with Samuel a little about Hertford. I have 
read what I wanted in Washington's Life, or rather his 
History of American Wars, as I do not see so much of 
Washington in it as I expected. I cannot add more ; 
but remain your very affectionate friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 



His next letter is from Harwich, and contains a pleas- 
ing disclosure of the state of his mind on the accom- 
plishment, so far, of his ardent wishes. 

No. 8. 

Harwich, February 6, 1806. 

•'* MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

" I with pleasure embrace the opportunity which 
now offers itself of writing you a few lines for the first 
time since I have been here. While I hope you enjoy 
your health, I can say I never was better in my life 
than I have been since I have been at Harwich. The 
air is very cold and healthy : I am sure I have felt the 
difference. In the town there are many inhabitants, 
and a Methodist place besides Mr. Hordle's : by Meth- 
odists, I mean Wesley's people. Mr. Hordle preaches 
three times on a Sabbath day, and is very well attended, 
and on Wednesday evenings ; prayer meeting on Mon- 
day night. I doubt not but you will join with me in 
returning thanks to the all-wise Disposer of eve»ts for 



48 MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER.' 

placing me in that comfortable situation which I noXv 
fill. I live with Mr. H. entirely ; his study is where 
I pursue my learning, and in an afternoon I meet his 
boys (there are only nine) at his vestry, to say a lesson 
or two with them. I learn Latin, Geography* and have 
got a considerable way in Doddridge's Lectures on 
Pheumatology, in which now and then I meet with a 
philosophical subject ; indeed, my dear friend, I really 
am very comfortable. ! that my improvement may 
keep pace with the advantages I enjoy. 

" But, my dearest friend, what a separation between 
us. I often think of you when in this study pursuing 
my learning ; think ! did I say ? I cannot help think- 
ing of you, and I will cherish every tender thought of a 
friend I so much love. Ofttimes I think that of an 
evening, when we are surrounding the family altar, 
vou are engaged in the busy concerns of life — whilst 
I am enjoying the advantages of a kind teacher, a good 
library, and various other blessings, you are behind 
the counter of a glove shop. Yet do not despair. I 
hope we shall some future day enjoy one another's com- 
pany, and these advantages connected with it. When 
I walk out, as I in general do every day for exercise, I 
imagine you to be here- — I converse with you — I see 
you — and fancy many other enjoyments, which perhaps 
will not come so soon. When I last saw you I was ex- 
ceedingly vexed that we could not have half an hour to- 
gether in private : but, however, I know you regard 
me still — and am sure I love you much : and it is 
some pleasure to think that we can yet pray for one 
another. O do not forget me, unworthy as I am. in 
your approaches to the throne of grace. Pray 



MEMOlKS OF SPENCER. 4$ 

may hot abuse my privileges ; but tliat whilst I am here 
it may be manifest that I am possessed of a principle 
of divine grace in my heart. But I hope I need not 
mention this to you, for you do, I trust, still remem- 
ber me in your best moments. I have not forgot the 
pleasure I experienced the last time I saw you in Lon- 
don, nor the affectionate manner in which you conver- 
sed with me from Mr. F— — 's to my cousin's the last- 
evening*. 

" I had a very tedious journey here, as I could not 
?lecp all night in the coach. But I think I am well 
repaid. I did not imagine that I should be treated 
with such care 5 I have a nice little bed to myself ; 
and, in short, am surrounded with blessings. I take 
some pleasure in contrasting my present situation with 
what it was when at Mr. Thodey's 5 but after I have 
considered the peculiar advantages of this to that, I 
find that there was one pleasure I enjoyed there which I 
do not here — that of your company and conversation ; 
and thus is life made up of hopes and fears, pleasures 
and pains. May we be among those who are strangers 
and sojourners here, who seek a better country. 

" The evening I generally employ in promiscuous 
reading, as the time is then as it were my own. As I 
comehome from the vestry about an hour before the other 
boys, from that time till tea I am engaged in secret med- 
itation, reading God's word, and prayer to him. Ah ! 
Thomas, you are then more on my mind than during 
the other parts of the day, for I cannot but remember 
how often you nave pressed on me the duty of private 
prayer : and indeed, my friend, you are then most re- 
membered hv Die in the best sense. I do continue to 



50 MEMOIRS OP SPEXGEK. 

pray for you ; and I hope God will hear our petitions 
for one another, and send us answers of peace. I beg 
of you, I entreat you to be earnest in supplication for 
me, that if God has appointed me for the work of the 
ministry, I may be fitted for it, and have a divine bles- 
sing attending me in all I undertake. 

" Mr. H. bids me write now and then the heads of a 
sermon of my own, and shew it him. I have yet only 
done one : it met his approbation. 

$ Be so kind as to remember me to Mr. F , &c. 

&c. — I suppose you like your business as little as ever ; 
but I hope you will soon be put in a situation where 
you will enjoy yourself more — I mean in the best en- 
joyments. I still hope that we, formed for each other's 
comfort, shall yet be made blessings to each other, and 
that in a particular way. Then let the conceited, cov- 
etous worldling say, ' Friendship is but a name'— -we 
know it is something more — it is a great blessing ; and 
where the friends have grace in their hearts, it is so em- 
inently and especially. David and Jonathan found it 
so. I often think of your noticing particularly that ex- 
pression, their souls ivere knit together. Dr. Young 
thought so when he said, 6 poor is the friendless master 
of a world. 9 I am thankful that I have had such a 
friend cast in my way that will be, I trust, a blessing 
to me all through life, and that will dwell with me in a 
better world. May the hope of that happiness stimu- 
late us to more resignation to the divin* will, and holy 
disdain of the vanities of time and sense. 

" And now, my dear friend, my letter draws to a 
dose ; I can scarcely forbear tears while I write it. I 
hope you will overlook its very visible imperfections ? 



.MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 51 

and remember that it comes from one that loves you.— 
Need I again beseech you to pray for me, that I may 
find mercy : of the Lord, lie blessed with every blessing 
here below, and crowned with glory hereafter. 

« Write me what religious intelligence you know I 
am ignorant of: I see the Magazine here and other peri- 
odical works.- And now I desire to commit myself, 

mv dear friend, and all our concerns, into the hands of 
a covenant God ; and wishing you every blessing, I 
rest your ever faithful and affectionate friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER.'* 

No. 9. 
'Harurich, February 24, 1806. 

v MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

"More than a fortnight ago, according to agree- 
ment, I wrote to you 5 as I have not heard from you since 
that time, my mind is full of anxiety on that account, 
as I know not what to assign as a reason for it. I hope 
you received it, for I should never like our correspon- 
dence to be investigated by any body but ourselves. I 
hardly know how to write this letter 5 whether I should 
inform you of circumstances I mentioned in my last, 
(being in doubt whether you received it) or taking for 
granted that you have had it, shall I tenderly chide you 
for not answering it. I cannot think you have either 
forgotten me, or are grown careless about me, and yef 
what can I say ! I am full of conjectures. Have you 
been so busy as not to have time to write 5 or have yon 
written, put it in the post, and the letter miscarried r 



5£ 24E3JOIBS OF SPENCER* 

I hope you will write to me, and inform me which of 
these is the real case. — Need I tell you again that I am 
peculiarly comfortable in my situation, having nothing 
fb render me otherwise but the absence of my friend, 
and my not having heard from him : nor from home 
cither ; for I wrote to my father, and I have not yet re- 
ceived an answer, which I expected immediately 5 in- 
deed I cannot at all account for these things. 

" As Mr. Hordle was a student at Hoxton, I have 
learnt a few things respecting the nature of the place, 
which perhaps you will like to know, for who can tell 
but some future day you may take the second, third, 
and last step towards being connected with them. You 
told me you had taken the first some time ago. But 
In drop this. The students, then, find themselves can- 
dles for tlieir own studies, soap, towels, tea, and they 
have one gown to study in, &c. they have family 
prayer altogether morning and evening^ : you know 
what they learn. I am very fond of Mr. H.'s preach- 
ing : we had three very fine sermons yesterday, on 
Exod. xxxiii. 16 ; 1 Cor. iv. 5 ; Eph. ii 8. I have 
just begun to enter the heads of the sermons in a book, 
and I am sure he is like a father to me ; I am indeed 
very well treated. I hope you are earnest in prayer, 
that God would let you know his will concerning you. 
0, my friend, I should think myself very happy if I 
could do any thing for you. Although I do not speak 
tD you now, nor see you, nor hear from you, yet I do 
feel pleasure in praying for you. I never was better in 
my life than since I have been at Harwich. A day or 
two ago I began to learn Hebrew. I often think you 
would be in your element in this study, with the advan- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. Oo 

tages of learning, &c. I begin now to have a little idea of 
Geography ; know more Latin than before, and study 
every day Locke's Conduct of the understanding, and 
Doddridge's Lectures ; besides a deal of cursory read- 
ing, &c. for here is a very nice library, to which I have 
free access. I told you in my last to let me have Mr. 

£ 's address. Hope you will remember me to all 

our friends. Give my respects to Mr. J. F — — and 

T. E« . As I do not remember any thing else that 

I have to say, I conclude with subscribing myself, 
yours, by all the tender ties of friendship, 

"THOMAS SPENCER," 

No. 10. 

Harwich, April A, 1806, 

" MY NEAREST FRIENI>, 

" I received, with the greatest pleasure, your let^ 
ter of the 29th of February, together with my father's ; 
and, as I was sorry you did not write to me before, so 
was I equally grieved at the cause : I sympathize with 
you in your afflictions, and hope that you are now quit£ 
recovered and — the Test of the family, I believe you 
when you say it affords you so much pleasure to hear 
of my welfare. O ! Thomas, pray for me that my very 
comforts do not become snares. I should like to haver 
had more of the heads, texts, && ©f the sermons you 
have heard in London ; and hope that you find the 
ministry of Mr. K — — and those you hear at Hoxton 
beneficial to your soul \ for it is my earnest desire 
&hat, under the influences of the sacred Spirit, your 
soul may be like a well-watered garden. I- (j»f eo%se) 



54 . MEMOIRS OF SPENCpR. 

hear Mr. H. three times on the Sabbath day, and I 
think I can say it has been to my profit : his sermons 
are indeed very judicious, experimental and practical, 
and I find it to be just the preaching I want. I keep 
a book, in which I put down the heads of most of his 
sermons, which, when it is full, I intend (if you would 
like) that you shall see. I suppose of an evening we 
have not less than four hundred and fifty people ; in 
the day time not quite so many. There is a band of 
singers in the table pew, generally a bass viol is played, 
and Mr. H. preaches in a gown, and I think the people 
are more attentive than any I ever saw. Once in a 
fortnight Mr. H. preaches at the Work-house : I have 
feeen twice, and I like it very much. In the week day 
I go to the Methodist chapel, and sometimes hear a 
good sermon there. I find by the Magazine that Mr. 

S is at Spa-fields chapel. I have spoken often 

about him to you, and have mentioned him in my letters 
(though by the bye I spelt his name wrong.) He is a 
Cheshunt student — has preached very frequently at 
Hertford chapel. I would advise you, if convenient, 
to go and hear him, for he is a very bold and very faith- 
ful preacher. If you do, give me a little account of 
the sermon, &c. If I were you, I would try to hear 

Mr. B 's missionary sermon. 

" I am very glad that you informed me of Mr. F.'s 
and Mr. W.'s conversation. I liked it all very well, 
except that about my preaching, and indeed I had much 
rather that Mr. F. had not mentioned that for various 
reasons. If you have heard any more, pray tell it me.* 

• He must not be put tee forward? 






MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 55- 

" But you have raised my curiosity very much about 
the certain minister, who has, unsolicitedly, offered you 
his recommendation for Hoxton. But why this reserv- 
edness ? I shall expect a friendly, satisfactory reason 
for your not telling me his name, &c. Do you think 
that I would abuse your confidence ? I hope not, — I 
think I should know better. As the month is expired, 
you must tell me in your next more about it, as whether 
you have seen this certain minister ? what he said to 
you ? &c. &c. I hope I have obeyed your request, 
and prayed for you ; may God grant us both more of a 
praying spirit, and may he answer our petitions, one 
for another. I thank you for Mr. E.'s address. I have 
not yet wrote to him — must — though, Thomas, I think 
now I should be completely unhappy, were I again to 
have any thing to do with business, and I feel for you, 
as you say your time is wholly taken up in it every 
day from six in the morning to eleven at night. I hope 
that while your aversion to the cares of the world in- 
creases, your spiritual affections are more animated, 
and your whole soul, from day to day, transformed 
more into the likeness of our lovely Jesus. 

1 The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man 
availeth much. 9 — You seem peculiarly pleased with this 
passage, observe therefore, 

1st. — That it is the righteous God regards ; — those 
who are redeemed by the Son's blood ; — loved by 
the Father's grace ; — sanctified by the Spirit's in^ 
fluence. — Those who are weaned from the vanities 
of earth and time, — whose affections are set on 
tilings above ; — in a word, who are born of Gad, 
and bound for heaven. 



56 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

2d,— »That they must pray.-— Prayer is the breath of 
the new-born soul, a believer cannot live without 
it, for 

* Prayer makes the darken'd cloud withdraw ; , 

Prayer climbs the ladder Jacob saw ; 

Gives exercise to faith and love, 

And brings down blessings from above.' Newtox. 

3d. — 'They must pray fervently. * Cold prayers,' saitk 
one, « do but beg a denial.' In vain we offer up 
lifeless devotion to a heart-searching and rein- 
trying God. 
4^i.— These prayers are effectual, and avail muck; 
they avail much in the sanctifying of our souls, 
and forming Christ there. 
" Pardon this digression, as these thoughts have just 
sprung from my own mind. 

" I hope you continue to enjoy your Sabbaths more 
than ever ? How delightful it is ' to dwell in the house 
of the Lord ail the days of our life, to behold the beauty 
of the Lord, and itujuire in his templet — That was Mr. 
H.'s text last Sabbath day morning and afternoon. In 
the morning he applied it to the church here below; 
showed what was meant by beholding the beauty of the 
Lord, and inquiring in his temple, and how desirable it 
was, &c. In the afternoon, he applied all (with the 
greatest propriety) to heaven. Two very excellent 
sermons. 

" I cannot yet give up the thought that we shall soon 
live together again ; if we are to be so favoured, how 
thankful should I be; if not, we must learn to know 
no will but God's, and acknowledge that the Judge of 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER., $? 

all the earth will do right. As yet let U9 not despair * 
but commit all our concerns into the hands of our cove- 
nant God and heavenly Father. We know he will do 
all things well. My situation is as comfortable, or more 
so than ever, and I am considered like one of the fam- 
ily. We have a nice house, and here are only Mr. H. 
Mrs. H. the little child about eight months old — a sweet 
babe he is, — the servant and myself. I read Virgil in 
Latin now, and what I do learn of any thing serves to 
shew me more of my ignorance. May the Lord keep 
me humble. I have theological questions to study, 
such as, 

* Wherein appears the possibility of a divine reve- 
lation ? 

6 Why is it desirable ? ? &c. 

w I may consult books upon the subject, and here is a 
very good library. You will not forget your promise to 
write in your next about grace thriving in your heart. 
As for me it is with tardy steps I creep, sometimes joy- 
ing, and sometimes sorrowing. And yet without boast- 
ing, I think I can say I have known more of heart relig- 
ion since I have been here than before 5 but it is very 
little altogether. I have experienced many happy mo- 
ments in secret, such times as remind me of our last 
Sabbath afternoon together. But O ! what a deal of 
pride, rebellion, carelessness, and all kinds of wicked- 
ness is there in my heart ; I tremble to think of what 
I deserve for my former levity, &c. — But pray for 
me that I may find grace in the eyes of the Lord, and 
live to some purpose in the world. I am afraid that 
there are yet improper motives in my desiring the 
work of the ministry. Since I have been, here I have- 



58 MEMOIRS OF STENCER, 

seen some little of its nature, &c. I am sensible that 
no learning, or human qualifications are enough to fit 
me for that all -important work ; and I hope, that <>od 
will pour down showers of grace on me, instead of 
what I deserve, 4 vials of wrath.' When you give me 
a little account of your < growth in grace,' and how .the 
lamp of religion keeps alive, I hope you will retrace 
some of the paths in which the Lord your God has led 
you, and tell me something of your former experience, 
present enj oyments, and future hope. If you wish to 
go on from one degree of grace unto another, which I 
do not doubt, commune much with your own heart, 
read the Bible as much as possible, and above all tilings 
pray fervently. — I am perfectly well in health, as I 
hope you are. My father told me in his letter that Mr. 
M is still at — -—, and that the chapel was -still con- 
tinued. I should like to have all the numbers of the 
Youtlvs Magazine (but September and October last, 
those I have) if I could have them sent Conveniently ; 
and it is not worth while to send by the coach, for you 
know the carriage will be more than the books are 
worth. Wishing you every spiritual blessing, I remain 
your affectionate an4 faithful friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 

No. 11. 

Harwich, May 9, 1806. 

" S£ Y DEAR FRIEND, 

" I received your two last letters with great 
pleasure. It is highly gratifying to me to discover a 
great, and I believe a growing attachment in yotitor 



MEMOIRS OF, SPEKCEU. 59 

wards your friend, notwithstanding he is so far from 
yon. In your letter of the 7th April you say you rath- 
er expected a gentle reproof from me for your not writ- 
ing to me; if so, what ought I to expect from you? 
But knowing the kindness of your heart, I forbear any 
more upon that subject, I was glad to hear of your 
eomfortable interview with your friends at Coggeshall, 
and like your method well of consulting with your 
father on these occasions. Let us always manifest 
an obedient and dutiful regard to the advice of our 
parents; they, you know, are older than we, and 
more experienced ; and the light of nature, as well 
as that of divine revelation, enjoins us to love, rever- 
ence, and obey them. I should not have expected 

that — would have acted so generously and 

friendly, as it appears he has done. I think from these 
circumstances there appears (something like) the kind 
hand of Providence, and I hope it will appear so to 
your satisfaction by and bye. I wait with anxiety 
the result of your intended interview with the Rev, 

,.of Chelmsford, and I need not tell you to make 

it a matter of prayer you know full well the impor- 
tance, necessity, and power, of the prayer of faith. 
Your cousin Ford should remember that if the turnpike 
road is got too bad for people to walk comfortably in, 
Hie fields are more pleasant, as well as much nearer. 
How different are the views of good people, even in 
the most trilling things. When we get to heaven, there 
will be an end of all differences in sentiment and dis- 
position. But I would not have you imagine that I 
(now) prefer Hoxton only on the account of its pleasant- 
i) ess, and the orthodox views of its supporters : but I 



€0 IvTkmoirS of speJvceh. 

Would wish myself, and would have you follow, the 
leadings of Providence in this as well as every other 
respect : if it appears the Divine Will for you to go to 
Homerton, by all means go ; but if not, you of course 
will not. However, you may be sure of one thing, and 
that is, that your friend will love you none the less for 
your preference of Homerton. But I do think that 
Hoxton will be the place for you. In your letter you 
have the remarkable words, < respecting my intended 
subject, I do not remember that I promised an account 
of my own experience as to growth in grace.' Now 
perhaps you did not mean so in the letter referred to, 
but I understood it so. Your words were, ' I had a 
great deal to write of, I mean the best things, as, how 
grace thrives in the heart, &c. which I hope to question 
and write of in my next.' Now here by the word 
question I of course thought you meant me, by writing 
of it, some account of yourself. But it appears it was 
not so y and now I confess if it was not so designed, I 
do not know your meaning. I have been particular in 
stating this, in order to prevent mistakes. I hope with 
you that in your present situation you are learning les- 
sons that will be beneficial to you all through life. I hope 
you will see more and more of the vanity of the pursuits 
of time and sense, and be more and more separated 
from a world lying in wickedness, as that is a good evi- 
dence of having found grace in the sight of the Lord. 
I perceive by your expressions that you are fired with 
zeal. I liGpe it is according to knowledge, and that 
3'ou are not venturing upon what you may repent of in 
some future day. To say my own thoughts, I do not 
think you are iaHueneed bv <anv wrong: itfcftives; IaB> 



MEMOIRS OF "SPENCER. til 

pleased with your self-dedication to God; and I heart- 
ily wish that he may hear all your prayers, bless you 
with an increase of grace and gifts, if he think fit ; but 
he that has the most grace makes the best minister, and 
w ill rise to glory, honour and immortality, at last, and 
shall shine as the stars in the firmament, and be forever 
blest ; whilst the ungodly minister (O awful thought !) 
shall have his portion with hypocrites and unbelievers, 
shall be banished from the presence of the Lord, and be 
cast into outer darkness, the smoke of his torments as- 
cending up forever and ever. I wish you could see 
Brown's Address to his Students in Divinity, which is 
prefixed to his View of Religion (an excellent body of 
divinity.) You would there see something of the im- 
port of being a minister of the gospel. O ! my friend-. 
it made me exclaim, i who is sufficient for these things P 
" There is certainly a great pleasure in receiving let- 
ters, and writing to each other ; you and I experience 
this, don't we ? Indeed you dwell much on my mind. 
I think if we were to see each other again, and have a 
little good conversation, it. would be like 6 cold water 
to a thirsty soul;' it would refresh us, call again into 
more lively exercise our warm sensations of affection. 
What a blessing it is, I often think, that we ever met 
together. I am very glad that I ever lived at Mr. Tho- 
dey's ; I there met with a worthy friend when I had 
none, learned a few lessons I was ignorant of, and was 
introduced (in some measure by being there) to Mr* 
Wilson. Now it is true we are far from each other, 
but what then r You are pleased, I know, at my little 
improvement in knowledge 5 and you, I hope, are about 
entering upon the ministerial office : and when I think 
6 



6& MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

of that, I also am highly pleased. A few weeks more* 
and something will be done for you. I have often told 
you, both in conversation and correspondence, not to 
be discouraged at a view of your own insufficiency, and 
you know God has chosen the foolish things to confound 
the wise, and he works by means that prove his sove- 
reign hand. But I must hint that your low views of 
yourself will do you no harm. Go on to despise the 
world and all the enchanting allurements it holds out, 
and be vigilant, for the adversary of whom you speak 
is never idle. How does he tempt us to think lightly of 
religion — to foolish and unedifying conversation — to 
offer up short, cold, and careless prayers, and I know 
not what beside. Pray, then, that while Satan is at- 
tempting to damp, nay quench the rising flame, the 
Holy Spirit may pour in plentifully the oil of grace, 
and cause it to rise to all eternity. — You, I hope, do 
not intend to flatter me (for friends should never flat- 
ter, and I hate it) when jq\\ say, you think I am fitting 
for some active elevated sphere in the cause of Christ. 
Ah ! Thomas, you do not see how unworthy I am to be 
a door-keeper in the house of my God, as I do, much 
less fill some elevated station. And indeed did I pos- 
sess the wisdom of Solomon, the learning of Paul, and 
the eloquence of Apollos, without their piety what am 
J ? — ' Like sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.'' I 
feel my need of divine grace, without which I am less 
than nothing, and can do nothing. What a dreadful 
thing must it be to have our parents, teachers, semina- 
ries, gifts, examples, our Bibles, books, instructions, 
vows and resolutions, prayers and sermons, all rise up 
in judgment against us .' The thoughts of it are enough 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCEH. 0*3 

to make our blood run cold. May the glorious and 
gracious God forbid such a doom for Jesus Christ's 
sake. To this I know you will say < Amen.' On the 
other hand, how glorious must be the lot of the faithful 
sent minister of the gospel : methinks I see him rising 
(at the judgment day) from the long sleep of death, 
with a smile of holy pleasure on his sacred countenance, 
and heavenly glory in his soul. I see him approach 
the tribunal of his reconciled Judge, and having the 
pardon of all his sins made manifest before an assem- 
bled world, with a goodly number of seals to his min- 
istry, he exclaims in the language of holy gratitude, 
peace, and triumph,' Here am /, Father , and the chil- 
dren thou hast given me P may such blessedness be 
yours and mine ; this will ten thousand times more 
than compensate for the troubles and trials met with in 
the ministry. Amen, saith your longing soul. 

" Saturday, May 10. — ¥v 7 ith respect to i).ie work of 
grace on my own heart, I feel shy to say much about it, 
fearing that after all my profession 1 should become a 
cast-away, and the root of the matter not be in me. 1 
feel such a lifeless frame of mind, such coldness in 
prayer, in short, I indeed think that I have more evi- 
dences of reigning sin than of the life of religion. I 
wish to i read my title clear to mansions in the skies.' 
I wish to be more Christ-like, more heavenly and spir- 
itual 5 but I can only say with David, 6 My soul lies 
cleaving to the dust, quicken thou me according to thy 
icon/.' I would fain believe, my God help and subdue 
my unbelief. I dare not say any thing, but hope and 
trust at present, nay hardly that, for I often feel such 
a gloom upon my mind that you cannot conceive of. I 



64 MEMOfRS OF SPENCEfi. 

think it is wrong to give way to it, and I fear if I did 
I should become quite melancholy. One reason is, that 
I want my friend, and feel his loss. If you were here, 
how could we relax our minds from study by a pleasant 
walk and agreeable conversation. When I walk out 
(if Mr. Hordle is not with me) there is no person whose 
company I much value. Sometimes one of the boys 
that Mr. Hordle teaches is with me ; but I believe he 
had rather be at play than conversing about any thing 
that would do him good ; and really I have walked so 
much alone lately that it gets quite insipid. When I 
first came, I enjoyed my" solitary walks much better 
1han I do now — what is the reason ? I cannot tell : it is, 
however, one great comfort that I am so well provided 
for. Mr. and Mrs. H. had an only child, but eight 
months old, I think the most beautiful and lovely boy I 
ever saw : his smiles had often filled our hearts with 
joy, and the openings of his infant mind were delightful 
as the blossoms in spring. Though so young, he knew 
very well I loved him, and I know he was very fond of 
me— -so pleased on my return after I had been out, and 
so very sensible for a child of his age. When I wrote 
you last he lay very ill, and I believe died the day after. 
His death grieved me very much, and I could not study 
for some time 5 but it is a comfort to reflect that he is 
now present with the Lord, and forever blest. But 
what a trial to lose him ! I felt much for his parents, 
who doated on him 5 and I confess I never loved a 
child as I did him. — I think if we were to live together 
again, how happy we should be : I mean where we 
could pursue our studies together. If you are at Hox- 
ton when I am. I hope we shall be in the same class. I 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. t?5 

should like you to go in just before me, or when I do, 
that so I might not be quite a stranger in the house, and 
have no one there that I know, for that would be very 
uncomfortable. You and I used to interest ourselves 
very much in the case of the highwayman that broke 
out of Hertford jail, and passed for a serious man. 
My father informs me that he has been taken in his old 
courses, and hung a little while ago at Lancaster, an 
awful instance of hypocrisy and deceit. I read in a 
newspaper, that he gave a paper there to the church 
minister, in which he said, that he had broke open fifty 
houses, stole thirty horses, and committed more high- 
way robberies than his memory could recollect. With 
respect to joining a church, I think it is your duty, as 
you therein give yourself up to God in solemn dedica- 
tion — make a more open profession of his gospel, and 
declare yourself on the Lord's side. Join that church, 
(be which it will) where you enjoy much under the 
ministry, where you have often received spiritual nour- 
ishment for your immortal soul. I think you will do 
wrong if you. do not join God's people in that maimer, 
for it is an incumbent duty. Your going to Hoxtoji 
would not make any difference, for the students there 
sit down at the different places in London— some at 
Hoxton chapel— some at Mr. Brooksbank's— • some at 
Mr. Clayton's, and in short wherever they have been 
members before, or where the minister admits them as 
occasional communicants. For myself, I cannot jti 
think of doing it. I am glad you are reading Hal) bur- 
ton's life, and hope you will rind it profitable. I hai dly 
know what to do about L-.e Youth's Magazine — carriage 
is too dear 5 however, I think you had better send 
*6 



00 .MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

them with your next letter : all, you know, except 
September and October last, which I have. 

" Questions lately studied. — < What perfections 
dwell in God, and how do you prove them to be in him 
without referring to the scriptures ?' 

" ; How do you prove that the scriptures are the 
word of God ?' 

" ; How do we know that the scriptures have been 
faithfully conveyed to us and not corrupted r' 

" I have not heard any thing of Samuel for these 
two letters ; hope he is well. Make my best respects 
to him. And now, commending you to our glorious 
Saviour, and hoping that one day it will appear more 
particularly, that we were designed for great blessings 
to each other, I remain, 

" Your affectionate and faithful friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 

No. 12. 

Harwich, June 14, 1806. 

" MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

" I received your parcel the morning after you 
sent it, and read your letter with the greatest pleasure. 
You judge rightly when you say, you suppose that I 
was anxiously waiting to hear from you. The provi- 
dential dealings of God with you have (I hope) filled 
me with wonder and praise. Surely both of us have 
great reason to say, ' Bless the Lord, O my soul, and 
all that is within me bless his holy name? Let us not 
forget any of his benefits, but for these displays of his- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 67 

goodness, dedicate our bodies and souls to his glory, 
which is only our reasonable service. Let us both re- 
joice, that God lias put this his treasure in earthen ves- 
sels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, 
and not of man. Little did you expect a few years ago, 
that you should be providentially called into the work of 
the ministry 5 but now you can rejoice, that unto you, 
who, in your own view, are less than the least of all the 
saints, is this grace given, that you might preach among 
poor sinners the unsearchable riches of Christ. Ob- 
serve now the dealings of Providence in this circum- 
stance. You are in a waiting frame, and when so God 
appears to grant you the desire of your heart. He 
has now made your path clear before you, and as to 
its being the call of God, I have not the least doubt ; 
but, however, I hope you will recollect, that though 
your way has been thus shewn to you, it may not al- 
Avays be so 5 difficulties, great and many, may await us 
both in our journey through life 5 but God has said, 
when thou passest through the waters, I will be with 
thee, and will prevent the floods from overflowing 
thee. Having such promises as these, my dear friend, 
let us press forward, and with holy resignation say r 
* Where he appoints I'll go and dwell.' 'Tis true, we 
know not what a day may bring forth 5 but this we 
know, that God will never forsake those who put their 
trust in him, but will be their sun to illumine them, 
their shield to defend them, and their God eternally 
to bless them. I do not at all wonder at your being 
perplexed in your mind about mentioning matters 

to . Had I been in your state, I should have 

dreaded it ; but you did well in making it a matter 



68 MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER, 

of prayer before God, and God was very gracious in 
ordering it as he has done. You know that prayer to 
God is the best way of making things sure — so you, I 
trust, have found it. I should like to know the other 
circumstances at which you hint, but I dare say they 
are too tedious to mention 5 perhaps we may see each 
other soon, when conversation will settle it. I am 
much pleased, nay delighted, with the conversation you 
had with Mr. W. He is, I doubt not, a warm friend 
to the cause of Christ, and does all he possibly can to 
forward it in the world. I am like him in regard to 
zealous and earnest preachers, and like to see anima- 
tion and life in a pulpit, and where the preacher's mind 
is fettered with notes there can be none. You know 

I thought, when I lived with you, that ■ and 

were good sort of men; they would not do any harm, 
but wanted to see something of their growing useful- 
ness. I don't doubt, but I shall soon have a letter from 
you, dated Hoxton Academy, &c. and I wish we may 
be there together, for it will be very awkward for you 
or me at first to go there when there is nobody we know. 
I wish we might be in the same class, &c. so that we 
might be helpers one to another, and shew that we are 
the servants of the living God. I know that Mr. H. 
writes to Mr. W. about me. I know I am, as Mr. W, 
says, young and inexperienced ; but I want divine 
grace, &c* to strengthen me for every duty, and prepare 
me for every duty. But, however, I don't think that 
Mr. T. knows any thing about the time when I shall be 
admitted. Though I did not mention it in my last, 

yet I do not think Mr. ^'s is a proper church for you 

to join as a studentj when considered as a Christian, 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 69 

merely, it would do very well, but as now you are to 
consider yourself as about entering the work of the 

ministry, it alters the case. I never heard Mr. < t 

therefore know nothing of him, or his church ; but Mr. 

B I have heard more than once or twice ; and if I 

were to recommend any church that I know in London 
as proper for you to j oin, it should be his. I have often 
thought that I should like to sit under him myself. 
Concerning your religious experience— doctrinal sen- 
timents — and ministerial motives* — I should rather 
think that your own plan, however simple, would be 
much better than any I can prescribe ; but as you know 
most of my tenets pretty well, I do not know that I 
shall now write a confession, but will here give you a 
few directions only, which, if you like, you can adopt, 
but if not, discard them totally. In your religious ex- 
perience, I would observe the order of time, state when 
you first received serious impressions, how they were 
fastened on your mind, what effect thejr had on jovlv 
conduct, &c. in your own way. In your doctrinal 
sentiments, begin with the object of worship — -God. 
State your views of the persons in the Godhead, quote 
scripture to prove your ideas of the Trinity. Then 
about man, his creation, fall, ruin, recovery, and so on. 
Be particular in saying there is no salvation but in 
Christ. Speak your opinion of the influences of the 
Spirit, the efficacy of divine grace in the conversion 
of sinners. The dealings of God with his people. 
The doctrines of election, perseverance, &c. Then 

* Referring to that summary of his views on these points, 
which, as a candidate for admission into Hoxton Academy, his 
friend was about to present to the committee of that institution: 



TV ML1101HS OE SPENCER. 

that you think, (if you do) that it is the duty of all 
men to believe the gospel (I believe it.) That God 
Will soon judge the world. That sinners will be sent 
to hell, and saints taken to heaven and glory, &c. &c. 

I have read Mr. H 's piece against C. and I by no 

means approve of it. He evidently has written on a 
subject for which he is by no means ^capable; for he 
does not at all understand the difference between nat- 
ural and moral inability — on which my mind has lately 
been much employed, and about which Mr. H. and I 
have conversed. There have been two pieces about it 
in some of the last numbers of the Evangelical Maga« 
zine. Now, natural or physical inability is such as a 
man feels who, we'll suppose, is quite blind, when an- 
other tells him to open his eyes. Now this is naturally 
impossible. Moral inability is such as a man feels if 
he is told, for instance, to come to Harwich. He says. 
I am very busy, and indeed I can't come : now we 
know he might come if he icould. He has power to 
walk to the coach, &c. but his cannot is his ivill not. 
Now, which of these two is the inability of sinners to 
come to Christ ? Pause here a moment, and think. I 
once was almost ready to suppose, it was like that of a 
blind man to open his eyes ; but if so, why does God 
command him to see ? Why does he feel remorse that 
he has not done so, on his death-bed, or at other times ? 
He knows he might have done otherwise if he would. 
The swearer may forbear to take God's name in vain 
if he will : can he not ? If not, why will not God hold 
him guiltless ? Their defect then is not natural but 
moral : that is, it is a defect in the will, which nothing 
but grace can remedy. Now. then, I am well convin- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 71 

ced with Mr. C. that the defect is not natural, but 
moral — what think you ? Perhaps you never thought 
much on the subject. I would advise you to read a 
little tract of Moseley's on the subject, Now Mr. H. 
does not understand this distinction : but supposes, by- 
saying it is not natural, we mean, that it is not common 
to all, or universal : now we know it is, and that in 
this sense it is not natural : but had Mr. C. used the 
word physical, or explained his meaning a little, per- 
haps he would not have been attacked by an An- 

tinomian. 

" I am very glad you sent the Youths' Magazines : I 
like them very well. I am very sorry you were not 
at prayer meeting in time : but I attach not the least 
blame to you, because of your hard work on Saturday, 
and so late. I think there is generally something to 
embitter our comforts a little. I should also have rather 
heard that you were very happy in the time of prayer, 
than that you were very uncomfortable ; but don't be 
cast down. Mr. W. encourages you ; your friends 
do the same, and God appears to be on your side 5 and 
you know, if he is for you, none can prevail against 
you. Do, now, take encouragement from the circum- 
stance of the cheesemonger's man, (now the Rev. 
J. G. of Devon,) and Mr. C. &c. and I am confident, 
that as God sends you into the work of the ministry, 
he will give you abilities sufficient. — Trust, then, in 
him — pray to him — be humble — be resigned — and I do 
hope you will experience divine consolations, heavenly 
support,and abilities sufficient. The preaching at the 
poor-house pleased me much 5 your text was very ap- 
propriate 5 and there is something in the natsre of the 



7% MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 

gospel which is peculiarly adapted to the poor. Now 
there does not seem any congruity between a fine 
chapel, very elegant and grand, with carriages at the 
door for the hearers, and the doctrines of the meek and 
lowly Jesus. This does not, I say, appear fit ; and the 
gospel was originally preached to the poor. I am glad 
you was not embarrassed at all, and hope you will be 
the means of doing much good. Get your subject well 
into your mind for Mr. K.'s room ; think of how you 
shall arrange it, &c. as Mr. W. told you. Tell me 
in your next your plan, heads, &c. and whether you 
use notes or no. If you think you cannot do without 
short ones, use them ; but do not slavishly attend to 
them. 1 think you had better work it well into your 
mind first, and then deliver it extempore, or without 
notes. Don't be too delicate, or mind too much the 
smells of rooms, and so on ; but consider Him who en- 
dured ail kinds of hardships, lest you be weary and 
faint in your mind. I find I must not expect to hear 
from you till after your examination in July : well, let 
me have the more when you do send. About the log- 
ical definition, I shall say no more ; only that I think 
you are very much mistaken when you imagine that I 
increase so much in knowledge, for I really do not think 
I do so much as I ought; indeed these blundering 
letters are evidence of it, so pray don't flatter. I did 
write a little in my last about my present experience, I 
believe, because 1 thought it was what you wanted. 
You say it is not quite possible to recollect all one has 
written in a former letter : I say, I know it is quite 
impossible. You say you should like to see the an- 
swers to the questions which I sent you: having room, 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



8 



I will transcribe some of them for you. " Question. — 
4 How do you prove the existence of a God, without 
referring to the scriptures, or from the light of na- 
ture ?' 

" Answer. — < (1st) All nations, heathens, Jews, Ma- 
hometans, and Christians, harmoniously consent that 
there is a God, who created, preserves, and governs the 
World.' 

" < (2d) There is a great impression of Deity on 
the mind of every man ; that is, an indistinct idea of 
his 'being, and a readiness to acquiesce in the truth of 
his existence.' 

" < (3d) The works of creation demonstrate it ; 
their alterations and dependence prove them not to 
have been from eternity — they could not form them* 
selves — chance could not produce them — matter can- 
not change its own form, or produce life or reason ; 
therefore there must be a God.' 

< ; $ (4th) It is agreed from the support and govern- 
ment of the world — -the heavenly bodies — seasons — 
weather— vegetables^—sagacity and instinct of animals 
-—herbs, &c.' 

** * (5th) From the punishments which have been 
inflicted on nations and persons for their excessive im- 
moralities.' 

" 6 (6th) From the terror and dread which wound 
men's consciences when guilty of crimes which other 
men do not know, or are no 4 able to punish Or restrain, 
as in the case of Nero, Domitian, and others, and that, 
too, when they laboured to persuade themselves and 
others that there was no God, &c>— -See Brown, Bod 
dridge-s Lectures* Ridgley, Buck's Dictionary. S' h. 
7 



74 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

6i Question.— 4 How do you prove that the scriptures 
have been faithfully conveyed to us ?' 

" Answer. — < In translations those books retain man? 
ifest marks of their Eastern original.' 

" Notwithstanding all that Chi*ist and his apostles 
inveighed against the wickedness of the Jews they nev- 
er charged them with corrupting a single text in the 
Bible. The various sects among the Jews, viz. Phari- 
sees, Sadducees, &c. have rendered it impossible that 
they could corrupt them, as well as the animosities 
which have ever since prevailed between the Jews 
and Christians, so that neither of them could vitiate 
these sacred oracles, without being shamefully detect- 
ed. Had the Jews attempted to corrupt these sacred 
books, it would certainly have been in those passages 
in which the fearful wickedness of their nation is 
described, and Jesus Christ magnified and honoured ; 
but in none of them do we find the least mark of con* 
cealment or corruption. That they should be corrupt- 
ed among Christians, is equally incredible : such was 
the multitude of copies, hearers, readers, and even 
sects, among them, that it is impossible they should 
ever have succeeded. Through the errors of trans- 
cribers, &c. the comparer of a multitude of copies can- 
not fail to find a number of translations. 7 — See Brown 's 
View qf religion, 

" Question. — < What proofs have you that man was 
at first created righteous and holy ?' 

" Answer. — (1st) 4 Universal tradition ; for all na- 
tions have supposed mankind to have once been in a 
holy and happy state.' 

" * (2d) The nature of things ; for it seems very 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. /$ 

improbable that so holy and so good a God should 
have formed mankind, in the original constitution of 
their nature, in so corrupt and sinful a state.' 

" '(3d) The natural resemblance men have to God 
in the spirituality, intelligence, and immortality of 
their souls. — Gen. ix. 6. James iii. 9.' 

" ' (4th) The express declarations of scripture : 
Eccl. vii. 29. Gen. i. 26, 27. Colos. iii. 10. Epk. 
iv. 24.' 

" These will now serve you for further meditating, 
on, as well as the subject of natural and moral inabili- 
ty ; your opinion of which I shall expect in your next 
letter. If you can, I would advise you to get Mose- 
ly's Piece, or read attentively the pieces in the Maga- 
zine ; one of them is a letter from Dr. Watts.-— I told 
Mr. Hordle about your present prospects $ I did not 
see any occasion to secret it, as Mr. W. knows it, and 
so many others : he is pleased on the account of it. He 
will be in London, if spared and well, on Wednesday 
the 24th instant, but do not think he will be there long- 
enough to preach, for he is going much further, and 
will be away for a month, at which time we expect a 
supply from Hoxton : we shall have a student come- 
down and stay all the time 5 which of them it will be 
I do not know. I have spoken to Mr. H. about Brown's 
Yiew of Religion, and he says it is quite at your ser- 
vice : I shall enclose it, and hope you will read it at- 
tentively through— be sure you read the address to 
students, at the beginning 5 when you have done with 
it (he will not mind your keeping it a month or 
more) send it by coach. In it you will find a whole 
body of divinity in a very little compass, The part 



o ;*i£-moirs oe spencer. 

on the light and law of nature is very excellent. He 
was a most eminent man, and mighty in the scrip- 
tures : may you and I be like him. I am glad to 
hear the good news you give me of your brother ; I 
hope it will appear to be the work of grace upon his 
soul, and that he may really be converted. I like 
your plan of having a prayer meeting much — may you 
all experience the blessings you pray for. 

m As to drawing landscapes and plans you know I 
never was any hand at it, nor do I think of doing any 
thing in it : if I do, you shall have it. Perhaps I may 
^ive Samuel a note. You eannot receive this until 
Tuesday morning, although written on Saturday, be- 
cause of the coach, so that I shall have time enough 
"between now and then for thinking if there be any 
thing else to send. Wishing you every spiritual and 
temporal blessing, I remain your affectionate, though 
ifcwQtthv, friend, 



« THOMAS SPENCER," 

No. 13. 

September 4, 1806. 

w MY DEAltEST FRIEXD, 

« How wonderfully has Providence appeared fei 
you and for me. This time twelvemonth beheld us 
both buried in a glove-shop — buried, did I say — I recall 
the word, for we then enjoyed what we do not now, 
mutual conversation, and each other's company. Let 
us hope that the time may come when we shall again 
enjoy that. I am very glad that you succeeded so 
well as you did in your sermon before the committee £ 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER.. 7? 

take encouragement from that circumstance to trust 
God for all your future discourses. The Sabbath day, 
August 17, though I found that I could not conven- 
iently omit any one of the services, yet I assure you 
I did not forget your request. I cannot say that I 
think it is right (especially in me) to omit public wor- 
ship for private devotion. And if I had done it, my 
conduct would in all probability have been more in- 
spected about it than I should wish. I have not seen 
the rules of HoxtDn Academy ; I do not think Mr. H. 
has them ; should like to see them much ; hope you 
will send them next time. I am fully persuaded -of 
the propriety, nay, duty, of your joining yourself to a 
church, which now I hope you have done 5 but for my 
own part, I must confess I have excuses for not doing 
it ; and what church could I join now ? Perhaps you 
say, Mr. Hordle's. I answer, there is no church I 
should so like to be a member of as his ; but do you 
see a propriety in my being a member here, when I do 
not expect to be here any longer than Christmas ? 
There could not in my view have been a more suitable 
pastor for you than Mr. B. I hope you will find his 
people as suitable as himself. I approve too of your 
attending the prayer meeting at his place of a morn- 
ing, and hope you find that convenient. May you 
have precious opportunities in the chapel, at the Lord's 
fable, and at the prayer meeting. You praise my ver- 
ses too much. Indeed they were only the hasty pro- 
ductions- of a few moments, and. I have no copy of them- 
for I only wrote them on a slate, and then copied them 
on the letter. However, -I am glad you receive .tjie.ni 
as a token of our regard and growing .affectibn for 



Jflr- MEMOIRS OF SPENCEtf. 

each other.* I would advise you by all means to be 
very friendly with the young men, those with whom 
you can consistently be so. I mean the more pious, 
and those whom you feel most disposed to associate 
with. There are, no doubt, a variety of tempers, dis- 
positions and ways in the academy, and it is there, I 
dare say, as in other places, some good and some 
bad. I do not wonder at your finding study to be 
wearisome and. laborious. Solomon found it so. — Eccl. 
\ii. 12. Others find it so. I sometimes find it so, 
but I am persuaded it will not be always so with you •: 
Hiid you should recollect that it is so different from 
what you have lately been engaged in, that I should 
wonder if it did not appear strange to you. But I 
should like to know what you are studying that is so 
difficult ; is it Latin, Greek, English, Hebrew, or 
what ? Now I do long to be there for the sake of your^ 
company as much as you wish me there. ? how 
charming it would be for us to study together. How 
cheerfully would I give you every instruction in my 
power. How willingly would I forego my own stud- 
ies for the sake of improving the mind of a dear 
friend !— Such a time may come, and that's all I know 
of it 5 for, as to when it will be, I confess I know no 
more than you do. This only I know, that I shall 
leave Mr. Hordle at Christmas, and shall then see you, 
my father, mother, &c. who, I know, will be pleased 
1 o see me ; but whether I shall come againto Mr. Hor- 
dle's or not, I believe nobody knows. I think that it 

* Those who may be anxious to see these verses inserted in 
-Le Memoirs, are referred to. page 13. for the reasons of tjieii. 
>fh'issidn» 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. ' 7$ 

is more likely that you should know before me, for 
Mr. Wilson and the committee have the management 
of it. I have one request to make to you which I 
hope you will grant, and that is that you write to my 
father at Hertford to tell him where you now are, &c. 
I know he will be very glad to hear of your welfare^ 
Tell him that it was by my desire you write to him, 
&c. This request you must, must fulfil. I hope then 
my dear friend, you may be kept of God from follow- 
ing evil examples^ (if such there be in a dissenting 
academy) and that it may appear that you are designed 
to fill some important station in the church of Jesus. 
Would it be amiss if we were both to learn Doddridge's 
72d hymn, entitled, ' Isaiah's Obedience to the Heav- 
enly vision.' I know you will like the hymn much. 
There is one thing I do not like in Hoxton Academy, 
that is, their not learning Hebrew without the points, 
which are little dots or specks put under and about the 
letters. See on the commandments which are, hung 
over the fire-place in the lecture room at the academy, 
if there are not such. Now, about these points there 
is a great dispute between the punctists and those who 
are not for their use. The punctists (Mr. S. is a strong- 
one) contend that they are of great use. Some say 
they are of divine authority. The great Mr. Romaine, 
and the late learned Mr. Parkhurst, oppose this idea, 
and say that they are only little dots or specks added 
by ill-designing men to the letters. I feel inclined to 
believe them. Now, I dread almost the learning it 
with points, as it is extremely difficult ; without them, 
it is simple and easy. Mr. H— — thinks they are 
of use, but does not think fem of equal authority to 



80 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 

the letters ; and scarcely ever reads with them. Now* 
he thought it best for me to learn it without points with 
him, and then at the academy I could learn with them, 
and so read both ways. I have compiled a lexicon 
myself, containing the roots of all the words in the 
language — -that is, I have quite abridged Parkhurst's 
very valuable one (and what no Hebrew student should 
be without) into a portable form for my own use.-— 
Now, I hope your mind will be eased, and your anxiety 
removed, and with the warmest aflection, 
« I remain, 

il Your ever faithful friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER.-* 

No. 14. 

Hwwicli, OcU 14, 180Q. 

>" MY DEAREST FRIEND, 

" As it is now considerably more than a month 
since you wrote me a note from Hoxton Academy, and 
I answered it, I conclude that a letter from me will be 
what you now desire ; and yet I am not quite certain 
whether you should not have written first t but by v.- ay 
of compensation for my too long silence before, I am 
willing to converse with you on paper. And as Mr. 
Hordle is gone to Ipswich to-day, to an association of 
ministers, and I have nothing particular to be engaged 
in besides, I embrace the opportunity. You are now, 
I suppose, a Tittle inured to study, and begin to find 
the difficulties of a student's life not so many as you 
apprehended thej were. I long to know in what stud- 
ies you are engaged, and how you like them. I nave 



3IEM0IRS OF SPENCER, 81 

just begun the Greek language ; so of course do not 
know much about it, my time having been of late prin- 
cipally employed in the Hebrew, of which I am very 
fond, especially as I now read it < unsophisticated by 
Rabinical points.' I please myself with the idea of 
seeing and conversing with you in the course of about 
ten weeks ; but at that time there will be something 
else which I shall not so much admire. Do you ask me 
what it is ? It is, my dear friend, nothing less than ap- 
pearing before the committee of Hoxton Academy. 
The thought of it makes me almost tremble. Yester- 
day morning Mr. Hordle told me that I must prepare 
the account of my experience, sentiments and motives 
for wishing the ministry by November, to be then laid 
before the gentlemen of the committee. This you 
know must be done ; and when I go to London about 
Christmas, I must go through all that painful task, 
which, as it respects you, is all over. He told me, too, 
that he supposed there would be some demur about 
admitting me merely on the account of my youth ; but 
he does not know that it will be so as to hinder my ad- 
mittance. Mr. Wilson has, it appears, written to Mr. 
H. about it ; so, if the affair succeeds well, I shall be 
in the Academy after Christinas with you. That one 
circumstance, your company and friendship, will make 
amends for all my trouble of mind on the occasion. 
You may be sure I shall communicate every circum- 
stance to you, and keep nothing back, that so by one 
occurrence and another, our mutual attachment and 
sincere friendship may be increased and strengthen- 
ed. What a long separation we have experienced :% 
may we be brought together again to strengthen each. 



-$§ MEMOISS OP SPBWOBH. 

other's hands, and be both engaged in the best employ- 
ment. You must inform me in your next, how long 
you think it will be before you begin to preach, and 
tell me all your places of preaching, texts, plans, &c. 
I hope you have written to my father, as I requested 
you would. I believe they are going on as usual at 
Hertford. Mr. M. continues among them. May great 
grace rest upon them all. I do not doubt that I shall 
feel some degree of uneasiness when the time comes 
for my separation from my friends here at Harwich. 
I mean such as Mr. Hordle, &c. &c. But my satis- 
faction will be, that I shall see you who are still, and I 
hope ever will be, my dearest friend. We live in a 
world of changes. Life is indeed a chequered scene; 
And here we have no continuing city. May we seek 
one to come. May it be our happiness to enjoy the 
favour of Him who never changes, but is the same 
yesterday, to-day, and forever. When I consider my 
exceeding sinfulness and depravity, besides my inabili- 
ty, I feel almost disposed to ivish my views had never 
been directed towards the ministry, but it does appear 
a call of Providence. How could I do any thing else 
than come here. And now, perhaps, a door may be 
opened even for my being a student at Hoxton 5 but I 
shall go there under several disadvantages 5 tor, being 
so young, I may expect a good deal of contempt from 
some self-sufficient and arrogant students, (if such there 
are) and you know they stay no longer than four years, 
and after that I shall be but twenty years old, and what 
can I then say to old experienced Christians. I do in- 
deed feel a deal of discouragement " may the 
Lord encourage me ? " &c. But I shall come uncjer 



sxEiioiRs of spencer* 81 

some advantages ; for, as I am not altogether ignorant 
of many things taught at Hoxton Academy, I shall find 
my studies easier than if I had to begin learning theim, 
&c. I wish Ave could be in one class. Another disad- 
vantage which Mr. Hordle has told me of is this— The 
students generally spend their money which they are 
paid for preaching, in books,* &c. Now, I shall be too 
young to preach for at least these four years, conse- 
quently I can have no books, &c. till that time. This 
appears a very great disadvantage. However, I would 
wish to leave all in the hands of God. He knows 
what is best for me. And if I am one of those who 
love God, and are the called according to his purpose, 
he will make all things work together for my good. I 
want that calm disposition which is careful for nothing, 

* It may perhaps be considered as departing from the design 
of this volume, or descending too much to minute particulars- 
yet I cannot satisfy myself without directing the eyes of those 
gentlemen who may have the care of providing supplies for the 
pulpit in destitute churches, or in cases of the pastor's absence* 
to this important circumstance.. But few of the students in our 
academies are overburthened with money — yet money is abso- 
lutely necessary for the purchase of books, without which their 
studies must be considerably retarded. Deacons, and others 
whom it may concern, should bear this in mind, in the compli- 
ments which they may make them for their occasional services ; 
and remember, that there is no case in which they can with great- 
er delicacy or propriety, display a generous regard to their 
wants in this respect, than when thus remunerating them for their 
acceptable labours. It is needless to express a disapprobation, 
which every candid mind mustfeel, of a conduct directly the 
reverse of this, which is perhaps too often practiced when the 
consideration is diminished for the very reason on account rtf 
which it ought to be increased — it is but a student. 



84 MBM0IR8 ftP SPENCER. 

but in every thing by prayer and supplication, make* 
known its requests unto God. I often reflect on the 
dealings of Providence with us when I first came to 
Mr. TVs. You, I suppose, had not the least prospect 
of being a student at Hoxton. And I could not see 
how my coming there to learn that business, could at 
all further my preparation for that sacred work. We 
there became friends. I was there just long enough to 
secure a worthy and affectionate friend, and to have 
the notice of Mr Wilson. Now you, too, have left 
Mr» T. and are in the academy. I went, you know, 
home, not knowing what the event would be. Provi- 
dence has sent me here ; and O, < what am I, or my 
father's house, that he has brought me hitherto.' We 
are now blind to futurity. We know not where we 
shall be placed in future life, whether far from, or near 
to each other. I hope you are happy in your own soul, 
and that you live near to God. There is a great dan- 
ger of forgetting the concerns of our own souls, whilst 
we are constantly employed in studying divine tilings. 
I know a little of this from experience, and perhaps 
you do. I hope you continue to pray for me ; that I 
may be kept from sin and evil, for you know ' the ef- 
feciualfortent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.' 
Does your brother David make process in the divine 
life ? You must, in your next letter, give me some ac- 
count of the change which I hope is wrought in him, 
for I feel an affectionate regard for all who belong to 

you. I ought to write to Mr. E . Is he well ? 

When you see him, remember me to him, and also to 

your cousin F . Tell him to write to ine, if it will 

suit him. You may. likewise, if you please, tell him. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. $5 

feow my affairs stand, as I have stated to you. It will 
he needless for me to give you any advice respecting 
the composition of your sermons, or the prosecution 
of your studies, as you, without doubt* have access to 
so many books on the subject. I hope you will read 
6 Watts' Improvement of the Mind.' I think it must 
be charming to attend Walker's lectures on philosophy. 
Do you attend them ? I should like it very much. Mr» 
JI. told me, that he did give lectures at the academy : 
of course you are there when he does. You know now 
when to expect me in London, a little before Christmas, 
cannot say the exact day 5 so that now, if you like, 
you may count the time. Be not be long before you 
let me hear from you ; and when you write, write a 
good deal. I remain, with the tenderest affection* 
your sincere and faithful friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER," 



Such, at this early age, were the letters of this ami- 
able youth. For the introduction of so large a number 
it is unnecessary to apologize, since that heart is sure- 
ly in an unenviable state which can derive no pleasure 
or profit from their perusal. Their simplicity is not 
their smallest ornament 5 whilst for the many useful 
hints which they suggest, as well as for the fervent ami 
exalted piety which breathes throughout the whole, they 
may be consulted with considerable advantage by 
youthful candidates for the sacred office. Let such as 
early feel the desires he felt, and pant with an equal ar- 
dour for the work of God, imitate, |& modest dim 



36 MEMOIRS GF SPENCER, 

dence— -his devotional temper — his jealousy of the mo* 
tives which influenced his choice — his intimate com- 
munion with his own heart— his love of retirement— 
his habitual reference of his affairs to the will of God — 
his addictednessto self examination and to prayer — and 
above all, that deep and solemn consciousness of the 
important work in which he desired, with fear and trem- 
bling, to be engaged ! 

In resuming the thread of the narrative, which the 
introduction of these extracts from his correspondence 
has suspended, it cannot but be gratifying to the reader, 
to be presented with that deep impression of Mr. Spen- 
cer's call and qualifications for the Christian ministry 
which his familiar intercourse with him had produced 
on Mr. Hordle r s mind. 

In a recent letter to a friend, that gentleman ob- 
serves :— 

" I have had but one opinion concerning our late 
young friend, which is — that he was born a preacher, 
and as much called to it, as Jeremiah to the prophetic, 
or Paul to the apostolic office. All the powers of his 
soul were evidently formed for it. While he was under 
my roof, preachers and preaching were the constant 
topics of his discourse 5 and those studies which had 
an immediate reference to them were his delight. His 
remarkable gift in prayer, though then just turned of 
fifteen, astonished and pleased all that heard him. He 
usually took his turn in leading the devotions of our 
little family ; and in his attendance on my ministry, I 
have sometimes seen the feelings of his heart in the 
fears that gushed from his eyes." 

In perfect accordance with these sentiments are those 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 67 

expressed by the same gentleman, in a letter to a friend 
at Liverpool, dated Harwich, 15th Dec. 1811 : 

" Of liis genuine piety, his fine imagination, his early 
attachment to theological pursuits, his love of study in 
general, his amiable disposition, and the powerful bias 
of his mind to the work of the Christian ministry, I have 
repeatedly declared my firm conviction; and had Di- 
vine Providence spared his valuable life, I have no 
doubt, as his judgment ripened, his character, excellent 
as it was, would still have improved." 

Whilst such were the impressions, so truly honour- 
able to his character, left upon his tutor's heart, by the 
sweetness of his temper, and the vigour of his mind — • 
it is pleasing also to observe the grateful and lively 
remembrance which the pupil cherishes of the kindness 
of his early friend. 

In a letter, addressed to the Rev. Mr. Hordle, from 
Hertford, he observes : — 

" The day of my examination is now fixed for the 
Tth of January. To that day, dear Sir, I look forward 
with trembling : may God grant me all that strength 
and boldness I shall then need. It is impossible for 
me to describe my feelings the night I left you. I tried 
to suppress any outward expressions of them as well as 
I could. But ! 'tis trying to part with friends who 
are become very dear to us ; but is it not, also, com- 
forting to look forward to a never ending eternity, when 
those who are cemented into one glorious body by the 
bonds of divine love shall never part ?" Afterwards 
he adds : — " For my part, I desire to be entirely his, 
(God's) but still I find a heart of unbelief, ever prone 
to depart from the living God. I hope I feel my own 



$8 MEMOIRS OF SPENSER.. 

unfitness for the important undertaking, for which it 
appears God designs me. May he keep me holy and 
humble, and fit me for all he has in reserve for me 
in the womb of Providence, whether prosperous op 
adverse." 

In a subsequent letter, dated Hoxton, 25th March, 

1807, he says — " I am told S -, of Kingston, is go* 

ing to Harwich : hope you will find him a blessing to 
your family, and when he shall leave you, may he re- 
view with as much pleasure the year 1807, as I do the 

year 1806. 1 trust I shall be constantly enabled to 

obey the kind advice which you gave me, and to lay ev- 
ery human attainment at the foot of the cross of Jesus ; 
to dedicate all I have to him, of whom I would always, 
esteem it my highest honour to learn ; to give up every 
thing that I may be called to sacrifice for the promoting 
of his glory, and constantly to seek not my own things, 
hut the things which are Jesus Christ's." 

In another, towards the close of the year 1807, he 
writes : — 

;i I shall never forget the year I spent at Harwich ; 
\iewing one circumstance with another, I doubt not, 
but that it was as happy a twelvemonth as I shall ever 
live." 

With such mutual feelings and expressions of affec- 
tionate regard, was Mr. Spencer's departure from Mr. 
Hordle's family attended. And this review of them 
will not be in vain, if it suggests to the young persons 
who may contemplate this imperfect portrait of one, 
whom living they so much admired, the vast importance 
of that impression, which the conduct of their childhood 
«r their vcr.ith mm leave in the scenes of their earliest 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 89 

association. For the most part, the character of the 
youth is the character of the man. If, on the circle 
of his earliest intercourse, an unfavourable impression 
of his disposition or his conduct is produced, there it rs 
likely to remain ; but, alas ! there it cannot be confi- 
ned ; it not unfrequently travels further than the per- 
son with whom it is connected, and the character is 
familiar where the countenance is unknown. Who 
that has a respect, then, for himself, but must be anxious 
that the impression, upon which so much depends* 
should be a happy one ; and that the correcter habits 
of maturer age should not be counteracted in their fa- 
vourable operation by the injurious fame, or unpleasant 
recollections of his early years. 

But we must follow the amiable object of our con- 
templation to a new scene. 

The following are copious extracts from the paper? 
which he submitted to the inspection of the committee 
at Hoxton, on his formal application for admission into 
that institution ; they were accompanied by a note to 
T. Wilson, Esq. 

HanvUh, 'ffintemtoer 10, 1806. 

* ; HONOURED SIR, 

" With diffidence I present the following account 
of my short experience, doctrinal sentiments, and mo- 
tives for wishing to engage 'in the solemn and important 
work of the ministry, to your judgment and that of iht 
commHtee. I am, with the sineeresl gratitude for yoitr 
lavoiiFs, your humble servant, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

*8 



m 



,ME>;OIIl3 OF SPBSTCER. 



Hanvich, Nov. 10, 18QG. 

" It was my happiness to be born of parents, 
who maintained a regard for real piety and the fear of 
God 5 by them I was, from my infancy, taught to read 
the scriptures, together with other books of a serious 
nature. I think I may safely say, that from my child- 
hood I felt some more than common impressions on my 
mind, with respect to the existence and perfections of 
God, the evil and awful consequences of sin, and the 
advantages of being religious ; but alas ! these impres- 
sions, though so frequently felt, had not that abiding 
influence which they have had on the minds of others, 
but were like the i morning cloud and the early dew 
which passeth away? As I grew rather older, I began 
to perceive some excellencies in religion, and to envy 
the happiness, which I believed serious people enjoyed. 
I knew something of the form of religion and the doc- 
trines of it, from having been taught catechisms, and 
lessons calculated to give youthful minds some ideas 
of the worship and conduct which God requires. Yet 
notwithstanding this, I gave too much (far too much) 
attention io the reading of novels and romances, the 
unhappy effect of which I lament to the present day. 
Many of these books I procured of lads, without the 
knowledge of my father. I felt a degree of pleasure in 
hearing lively, animated sermons ; but I have reason to 
believe that this sprung from a desire to please my 
friends, and give myself an opportunity of imitating 
the preacher's voice and gesture. I also composed 
little pieces of poetry on sacred subjects, which I have 
since destroyed, because I then knew nothing of exner- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 91 

imental, vital godliness, and of course was only mock- 
ing God in them 5 but I did not give up making verses. 
All this while, I was totally ignorant of that divine prin- 
ciple of grace in the heart, without which, I am sensi- 
ble, nothing we can do is acceptable to God. I knew 
nothing of the Holy Spirit's work, in convincing me of 
sin, and leading me to Jesus Christ as my Saviour. I 
knew nothing of communion with God and with his 
Son. I hope some of the sermons of Mr. Ebenezer 
White, of Hertford, were not altogether useless to me, 
as well as some which I heard at Lady Huntingdon's 
chapel there ; but from my conduct at that time, in va- 
rious particulars, I cannot say that I had experienced 
what was meant by being born again. If you ask me 
from what time I date my conversion to God, I must say, 
that the exact time I cannot tell 5 but I think I may also 
say, that the Lord drew me gradually to himself, and 
by degrees I loved devotional exercises more and 
more ; and I hope that I have, within these four years, 
experienced many refreshing seasons. How I wish to 
have my evidences brightened, as it respects personal 
interest in the Lord Jesus Christ ! I desire to cast my 
all upon him, and wait his will concerning me. How* 
ever short my experience in the divine life has been ? 
can I not appeal to God, and say, ' Lord, thou knoivest 
all things, thou knoivest that I love thee F" 



" I hope that my reasons for wishing to be a labourer, 
in the Lord's vineyard are sincere, and that they do 
not spring from any improper motives* If I should be 



92 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

called into it, I pray that I may be kept faithful, and 
never shun to declare the whole counsel of God. As 
I know something of the excellency of the ways of wis- 
dom, I am anxious that my fellow-mortals may be par- 
takers of the same grace, and that they may be brought 
to know God, and experience the riches of divine love 
and mercy in Christ Jesus : and if God should so honour 
me, as to make me an instrument in his hand, of doing 
them real good, how happy should I be ; how willing to 
endure hardships for Jesus' sake. As I trust God has 
given me a desire to act for his glory, and I know that 
he is glorified in the salvation of sinners, I am willing, 
if He should call me to the work, to engage in it. I 
am aware, that it is an arduous and a difficult work, yet 
from these principles, I would fain be a faithful minister 
of Jesus Christ. I would follow the leadings of Divine 
Providence. By the good hand of my God upon me, I 
am brought hitherto 5 and although some circumstances 
are against me, yet, s where he appoints, I'll go and 
dwell.' I am not quite sixteen years old, yet young as 
I am, I have committed many sins, and experienced 
many mercies. Now, unto Him that is able to keep 
me from falling, and to present me before the presence 
oi" his glory with exceeding joy , be glory and majesty, 
dominion and power, forever and ever. Amen. 



?j 



» ; I believe in one God as the object of religious wor- 
ship ; that this God is from everlasting 5 and that in 
our Jehovah there are three distinct persons, viz. the 
Father, the Son. and the Holy Ghost ? and yet these 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 93 

three are one ; that tliis is a mistery which we cannot 
explain, yet must believe, because it is declared in holy 
writ. That man was created holy, but fell from his 
original rectitude, and sunk himself and all his poster - 
ity into sin and wo. I believe also, that God from all 
eternity elected and chose his own people unto eternal 
salvation 5 that men are in a lost state and condition, 
and are spiritually dead 5 that they cannot be saved by 
any merit or works of their own, but only by the right- 
eousness of Christ tiie Saviour 5 that it is by the opera* 
tion of God the Holy Spirit on the mind of man, that 
he becomes a sensible sinner; that his. understanding 
must be enlightened before he can choose God for his 
portion, or the paths of religion as those in which he 
will walk. It was for this end and purpose that Christ 
Jesus came into the world, viz. to save sinners by hts 
own blood % and I am persuaded that there is salvation 
in no other but in .him, and that s he is able to save to 
tiie very uttermost all Hud come iinto God by him? \ I 
believe that he is the eternal God, i the same yesterday ■, 
and to-day, and forever /' that his grace is all sufficient, 
his name, person, and all that concerns him, is precious 
to them that believe ■; that those who exercise a living 
faith upon him, are justified from all their sins- — at the 
same time I know, that believers are called to be holy, 
and that it is by the consistency of their walk, that they 
are to evidence to those around them, that their profes- 
sion is sincere, for ' ivithoid holiness no man shall see 
the Lord.' As I am fully satisfied with respect to the 
divine origin of the scriptures, and the inspiration of the 
holy men who wrote them, so I believe, that they are 
the unerring standard by which to try our faith, and 



94 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

upon which we are to rest our opinions. I believe, that 
the people of God should form themselves into seperate 
churches, that they may enjoy the benelit of divine or- 
dinances, such as baptism and the Lord's supper, togeth- 
er with the hearing of the word, &c. I believe, that the 
ordinance of baptism is to be administered to the chil- 
dren of believers, inasmuch as it is a sign of their ad- 
mission into the visible church, and as it is emblematic- 
al of the giving of the Holy Ghost, and that it is to be 
administered by sprinkling. I believe, that, notwith- 
standing all the Christian's enemies and dangers, he 
shall hold on hig way, and grow stronger and stronger : 
and though the doctrine of final perseverance has been 
much abused, as well as its truth much questioned, it 
is an article of my faith, because God's word declares 
it. I believe, in the approach of a judgment day — the 
eternal glory of believers, and the insufferable torments 
of the wicked in hell. I believe that God will have 
the whole glory of the salvation of those who are saved 
forever and ever 5 and that through all eternity they 
will ascribe dominion, power and glory to Him who 
loved them, and washed them in his own blood— -at the 
same time, sinners will everlastingly blame themselves 
for their perdition and wo." 

On the 7th of January he appeared at Hoxton, be- 
fore the committee, and underwent the examination 
which he had so long and so anxiously anticipated — 
\*ith success and honour : was admitted a student, and 
became immediately an inmate of the house. In a let* 
ter to his friend Mr. Hordle? dated Hoxton. January 
21st, 1807, he saye— 



HEMOIRS OF SPEHCEE, #5 

tt Two things make this day remarkable to me — one 
is, that it is my birth day, as I am now sixteen years 
old ; the other is, that I have been a fortnight in this 
house. On Wednesday the 7th inst. that long dreaded 
day, I appeared before the committee. Your imagina- 
tion may represent a little boy speaking before them. 
I felt a good deal of timidity, and waited the event with 

feelings of anxiety." " I hope I can say, I feel the 

importance of that work for which it appears God in 
his providence has designed me : but oh ! I need lar- 
ger degrees of grace to fill that station in such a man- 
ner, as that my own soul, and the souls of my fellow 

creatures, may be benefitted thereby." " I recall to 

my mind occurrences which transpired when I was at 
Harwich — O may I have all God's dealings sanctified 
unto me, I want a deeper acquaintance with my own 
heart, and a more influential knowledge of God my 
Saviour." 

That, on his entrance into the Academy at Hoxton, 
Mr Spencer was no novice in the knowledge and expe- 
rience of divine things, is obvious from a perusal of the 
papers above cited. With a mind already the subject 
of considerable culture, and habits formed for the pur. 
suits of science, he commenced his academical course 
under circumstances the most auspicious. The impor- 
tance of such a previous preparation in candidates for the 
Christian ministry, and the patronage of our dissenting 
colleges, is not, perhaps, sufficiently considered. It is 
to be regretted, that so many enter without having previ- 
ously obtained the lowest rudiments of general science, 
or even a tolerable acquaintance with their native 
tongue. The time allotted for a student',* .residence i$ 



98 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 

in the most liberal institutions, but short, compared 
with the immense labour and magnitude of the object 
to be obtained. But much of this time, short as it is, 
must be expended in the inculcation of those first prin- 
ciples of knowledge, which might be easily obtained 
elsewhere ; and then when the student is somewhat pre- 
pared for studies more suitable to the dignity of a col- 
lege, he begins to preach. Thus an attention winch 
ought to be undividedly devoted to the labours of the 
study and the exercises of the class, is partly lavished 
on preparations for the pulpit and public services. 
Hence arose the plan, so judiciously adopted in certain 
cases, in connexion with the college of which Mr. Spen- 
cer was a member, and of the beneficial tendency of 
which he was so striking an example, of sending the 
candidates who may be defective in these radical points, 
or too young for admission, to some pious and able min- 
ister for preparatory instruction. But these instances, 
the offspring of a peculiar necessity, shew the impor- 
tance of an institution, founded expressly for prepara* 
tory studies,— that so a matter of such vast importance 
to the respectability of the ministry may not be left to 
the casual benevolence of liberal and enlightened indi- 
viduals, or any happy combination of circumstances in 
a solitary case.* 

In the mean time, to remedy, as far as may be, by 
his own exertions, this serious defect, should be an ob- 
ject of conscientious regard to every young man whose 
views are directed to the Christian ministry. By a dil- 

* The reader who would be gratified with an outline of the 
course of study pursued in most of our dissenting- colleges, mat 
■urvn te> the Jppemtix, „Vo. I. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

igebt improvement of his time— by a careful employ- 
ment of those smaller portions of it^ which in too many 
cases are suffered imperceptibly to slide away — aided 
by the friendly direction and advice of some prudent 
and well-informed minister, which may without much 
difficulty be in every case obtained- — any one of toler- 
able capacity and perseverance might afford his own 
mind a considerable degree of cultivation, and attain a 
portion of knowledge, ere his entrance into an academy, 
most favourable to the facility and success of his pursuits 
whilst there. 

These remarks more particularly apply to those young 
men, who, with views directed towards the ministry, 
are still engaged in secular employments, and to whom 
the privileges of an academy must be, in the first in- 
stance, regarded as a distant object. 

Little of importance* can be expected to have trans- 
pired, in connexion with the early part of Mr. Spen- 
cer's residence at Hoxton. It appears, however, that 
here, as in the Poultry and at Harwich, his interesting 
appearance and amiable manners soon gained him the 
love and esteem of all. The tutors and the students 
alike felt an interest in this new and youthful member 
of their literary society — and he applied himself with 
diligence to the improvement of those advantages which 
he there enjoyed. He was now introduced to a wider 
range of observation and of study* But whilst a respect 
to the orders of the institution, and a desire to render 
himself, by useful acquirements, respectable in any cir- 
cle in which it might be his future lot to move, induced 
him to apply with becoming diligence to the various oc> 
conations assigned him, he yet dwelt with peculiar at - 




98 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

tachment on such as were more immediately connected 
with the work of preaching. And with an ardent de- 
sire to be early and extensively employed in the minis- 
try of the gospel, a desire strengthened and confirmed 
by time, it can be no matter of surprise, that to this dar- 
ling object were directed all the hours of his leisure, and 
all the ardour of his soul. 

At the vacation in June he returned to his father's 
house at Hertford. During his stay there he preached 
his first sermon in public. It was at the small village 
of Collier's End, six miles from Hertford. His auditory 
consisted of about thirty plain country people — and his 
text was 1 John i. 7, 4 The blood of Jesus Christ, his 
Son, cleanseth us from all sinS Simple and unlettered, 
however, as his audience might be, they had sufficient 
penetration to discover the uncommon talents of their 
youthful preacher; which, together with the novelty 
and loveliness of his juvenile appearance, excited in 
that little village an astonishment and admiration, which 
have since circulated through all the districts of the 
great metropolis, and almost every town in Great Brit- 
ain. How beautiful is the progression which marks all 
the dispensations of nature, providence, and grace. 
From the smallest springs the mightiest rivers rise, to 
promote the fruitfulness or waft the commerce of the 
world. From the grain of mustard seed, the kingdom 
of heaven gradually rises and expands, till it becomes 
a great tree, beneath whose shade all the nations of the 
earth repose 5 and in the history of individuals, — from 
the day of small things, has not unfrequently arisen a 
career, whose brilliancy has dazzled and surprised the 
world ; and from the remarkable concurrence of ch - 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 99 

Cumsfances, events the most important to the interest 
of the individual, and the happiness of mankind, have 
sprung. It is for the most part denied to men, who 
move in a public and extended circle, to witness those 
early displays of genius, and that gradual developement 
of talents, afterwards so eminent for their usefulness or 
splendour, upon which the eye of a philosopher would 
love to dwell. This is usually the privilege of a few 
obscure individuals in some retired spot. The new 
Hedged bird first tries its pinions in its own sequester- 
ed bower ere it soars above its native glen, and courts 
the admiration of man by the boldness of its flight, or 
{he sweetness of its song. And yet there is such a 
peculiar interest connected with the early efforts of a 
mighty mind, and the first stages of an eminent career, 
that we gather with diligence all that can be gleaned 
respecting them, and listen with delight to the narra? 
lion of those who were spectators. But few perhaps 
who have heard of Spencer, but would gladly be trans- 
ported to the peaceful village of Collier's End, and 
mingle with the auditors under his first sermon there. 
And it requires no uncommon acquaintance with the 
principles of our nature, and the doctrine of association 
in the human mind, to predict, that the villages of 
Halfway, Street, and Lewisham, in Kent, will derive 
some celebrity in the religious world from having been 
the scenes of ministerial labour, when a youth, to a 
preacher, who for these twelve years past has held the 
delighted auditories of the metropolis the willing cap- 
tives of his eloquence.* And surely such a principle 

* The name of Doctor Collyer is too well known to derive any 
additional celebrity from being copied on a page my hand has 



100 MEMOIRS OF SPEXCE.R. 

as this, whilst in its gratification it yields an unde- 
scribable pleasure, may be cultivated to no small ad- 
vantage. It banishes from the mind that despair of 
reaching it, which a contemplation of exalted eminence 
might inspire, by an assurance, that the object at which 
lie aims is not unattainable, since its present possessor 
once occupied the same level with himself, and was 
attended by circumstances as unfavourable to his ele- 
vation as those which at present may encompass him. 

Our amiable young preacher's first sermon excited a 
strong desire in his hearers for a repetition of his la- 
bours ; and his fame, rapidly circulating, produced an 
invitation also, from another quarter, for the following 
Sabbath. To these solicitations, we may suppose with- 
out much reluctance, he complied ; and he preached 
again on the morning of July 12th, at a village called 
Bronghin. His text on this occasion was Col. iii. 3, 
• Ye are dead, and your life is hid with Christ in God. 
in the afternoon and evening of the same day, he 
preached again at Collier's End. In the afternoon 
from Acts xix. 2, ' Have ye received the Holy Ghost f 
In the evening from Phil. iii. 18, « Tliey are tJie ene- 
mies of the cross of ChrisV The attendance at Col- 
lier's End was, on this second Sabbath, so much in- 
written. And perhaps I may be censured for indulging in an al- 
lusion here which bears at least the appearance of flattery. Far 
be it from me to cherish such a principle. The work in which I 
rrai engaged is sacred to friendship and to the memory of departed 
Aorth ; and is it at all surprising, that whilst endeavouring to 
preserve the record of a friend removed by death, my memory 
should sometimes recur to the many excellencies which have so 
long endeared to me a friend from v/hem 1 am rcmovad fey 
J is t once ? 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 101 

creased, that the room would scarcely contain the 
people who were desirous of hearing, and every one 
seemed still more deeply affected by the impressive 
manner, the solemn doctrines, and the surprising pow 
ers of this young divine. On the following Thursday 
he preached again at a place called Brickenden, from 
John iv. 29, ' Come see a man which told me all things 
that ever I did; is not this the Christ?'' On Sunday, 
July 19th, he again resumed his labours at Colliers 
End, and preached in the afternoon from 2 Chron. 
xxxiii. 12, 13, * And ivhen he ivas in affliction he be- 
sought the Lord, his God, and humbled himself greatly 
before the God of his father's, and prayed unto him, arid 
fie ivas entreated of him, and heard his supplication, and 
brought him again to Jerusalem, and to his kingdom. 
Then Manasseh knew that the Lord he was God.' In 
the evening the multitude that assembled was so great. 
t hat to gratify them all, he was under the necessity of 
preaching out of doors, which he did with great ani- 
mation and effect, from Rom. xiv. 12, * So then every- 
one of tis shall give account of himself to God, 9 It 
appears from the report of one who was present at the 
delivery of this sermon, that it was remarkably impres- 
sive. Although surrounded hy so great a crowd, he 
.seemed quite undaunted, and expressed himself with an. 
ease and an energy which produced the most serious 
impressions upon many, zn& excited the astonishment 
of all. To see the old and grey-headed melted into 
tears beneath the simple touches, and fervent appeals 
of a youth, but little more than sixteen years of age, pro 
claiming with the boldness and propriety of an experi- 
enced veteran the glorious gospel of the" Massed God. 
*9 



1,02 MEMOIRS C¥ SPENCElk 

must have been truly interesting. And it is also grat- 
ifying to know, that by the earliest labours of this ex- 
cellent youth, happy and saving effects were produced^ 
which remain to this day. On the eveni ng of Thursday, 
July 25d, he preached at Bunting ford, a town about 
ten miles from Hertford, from John x. 9, « By me if any 
man enter in, he shall be saved, and shall go in and out, 
and find pasture: On Sunday, July 26th, he preached 
again, afternoon and evening, at Collier's End. In the 
afternoon from John vi. 44, * No man can come to me 
except the FatJier which sent me draw him : and I will 
raise him up at the last day. 9 In the evening from 2 
Tim. ii. 19, 6 Nevertheless the foundation of God stand- 
eth sure, having this seal, the Lord knoweth them that are 
his, and let every one that nameth the name of Christ de- 
part from iniquity.' On the Wednesday evening fol- 
lowing he preaehed at Hormead, from Psalm iv. 6, 
; There be many that say, who will shew us any good ? 
Lord lift thou up the light of thy countenance upon us/ 
A.nd on the Thursday evening again at Brickendm. At 
Hormead his congregation amounted to six or seven 
hundred persons, and the place where they were assem- 
bled was a barn.* Indeed by this time his fame had 

* The circumstance of Mr. Spencer's preaching in a barn, and 
in the open air, may perhaps excite unpleasant feelings in the 
breasts of some who, having occasionally heard him with delight, 
may honour these pages with a perusal. They may feel regret, 
perhaps, that he should ever have been so irregular, or have ever 
trodden in the steps ofmen, who are universally condemned as 
enthusiasts and fanatics. It is necessary,, therefore, in order to 
vindicate him* and all who have been guilty of a similar offence 
against the laws of ecclesiastical decorum, from the charge of en- 
thusiasm and fanaticism, to produce some passages of scripture, by 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 103 

so widely circulated, that wherever he preached, num- 
bers flocked from all parts to hear and see this wonder- 
ful youth ; and he might have preached every day in the 
week, had he been so inclined, so numerous were the iv- 
vitations that crowded upon him. However, his vaca- 
tion drew towards a close ; and his return to Hoxton 
suspended for awhile these public exercises. He 
preached on the evening of Sunday, Aug. 2d, at Roy- 
don ; and we hear no more of his preaching till De- 
cember. It certainly admits of doubt, whether these 
early exercises in public preaching are beneficial or 
injurious. That they are injurious, may be argued 
from the circumstance, that they tend to elate and dis- 
sipate the mind — to inspire it with conceited notions of 
its own superior powers — too soon, alas ! to familiar- 
ize the ear to the insinuating sounds of flattery, and, in- 
vesting the youth with high conceptions of his present 
qualifications, to annihilate those humiliating views of 
his own ignorance and imperfection, — and that ardent 
panting after knowledge in which lies the great source 
of respectability and usefulness in after life. Not to 
notice those practical errors into which the ignorance 
and ineaution natural to youth may lead him, when en- 

which their conduct, in this respect, is fully justified : ' Hawbeit, 
the Most High diuelleth not in temples made ivith hands' — Acts 
vii. 48. * Where (whether in a fold, a barn, or a temple,) tivo or 
three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of 
them.'* — Mat. xviii. 20. * Go out into the highways and hedges and- 
compel them to come in? — Luke xiv. 23. The most impressive 
sermon ever preached was delivered in the open air, upon a mount. 
And the wilderness of Judea was the scene of his ministry, who 
was honoured to be the forerunner of the Messiah. 



104 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

gaged in directing men in affairs of infinite and eternal 
moment. If the aged evangelist, — the venerable pas- 
tor, is heard so frequently to deplore his imperfection 
and lament the possibility of error in his public instruc- 
tions — a young man may well proceed in his early la- 
bours with caution, and had need to be possessed of 
no common discretion and knowledge, to counteract 
the suspicions necessarily excited, in the breasts of the 
thoughtful, by his youth. 

But perhaps, on the other hand, there are peculiar 
advantages connected with an early entrance on the 
work of preaching. The novelty of the circumstance 
excites attention, and many are converted,, who, but for 
the juvenility of the preacher, had never heard the gos- 
pel from his lips, and this is doubtless amongst the ma- 
ny means which an Infinite Wisdom has selected, for 
accomplishing, in the conversion of sinners, the purpo- 
ses of an infinite love. Besides that on the preacher's 
own mind, his early employment in ministerial labour 
may have a most happy influence. By an early initia- 
tion into the difficulties and trials of the work, he may 
attain an ease and a skill in its execution, which is per- 
haps but seldom reached by the man who has commen- 
ced much later in the day. In youth the mind is ail 
activity, and difficulties which are met "with then are 
far more easily surmounted than when they are presen- 
ted to the opposition of maturer age. But after all, 
much depends upon the peculiar circumstances of the 
individual case. Many a man is better prepared for . 
the work of the ministry at sixteen -Cn&n others are at 
forty 5 and whilst the popularity and flattery which usu- 
ally attend the course of youthful preachers would be 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 105 

the ruin of some, there are others indued with a pru- 
dence and a piety sufficient to resist their influence. 
And be it remembered, that the time allotted to every 
man for labour is at best but short, and that for many of 
our ministers — alas ! that these should be, for the most 
part the most eminent and useful ! — is prepared an early 
grave ! To be squandering away the precious time which 
ought to be devoted to the salvation of immortal souls, 
in the acquisition of profound and extensive erudition ; 
to be immured for years in the walls of a study, and 
confined to the precincts of a college, impairing the 
physical strength by midnight application, and smoth- 
ering the flames of holy zeal amid the ices of metaphys- 
ics and the lumber of heathenish philosophy, whilst thou- 
sands of immortal souls are perishing, to whose eternal 
interest those years might be successfully devcted — i$ 
certainly a conduct highly culpable, and not in the spir- 
it of Him who said — ' ivork ivhilst it is day, for the 
night cometh, when no man can work P Far be it from 
the writer of this volume in any way to undervalue or 
decry that knowledge, which, in a minister of the gos- 
pel, the circumstances of the present times render so 
essential. — These remarks only apply to those cases in 
which years are expended in adding to a stock already 
more than sufficient for present purposes, without begin- 
ning to apply to any practical use that which is so large- 
ly possessed ; and may affect such institutions as, hav- 
ing fox their object the preparation of young men for the 
work of the ministry, suffer the zeal for God, and the 
love of souls, which led them to its patronage, at least 
to lose a little of its fire by years of dry scholastic dis- 
quisition, ere they are suffered to go forth into the world 



106 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

and expend them on their proper object — the conver- 
sion of their dying fellow men. 

With respect to Mr. Spencer, the world will judge 
whether he began to preach too soon or not. I believe 
that Liverpool, by far the most competent to judge in 
this case, will, without hesitation, decide in the nega- 
tive. Perhaps there are, who may be disposed to say, 
a this was an exception." — Granted ; — but in such ex- 
ceptions, let a similar liberty be allowed. Where ex- 
traordinary gifts, attended by extraordinary grace, so 
early develope themselves, allow t^em a proportionably 
early exercise, nor rob the church of God of an useful 
minister, who, ere the period of a cautious policy has 
fixed for the commencement of his labour is arrived— 
may be summoned to his rest. 

On his return to Hoxton we find Mr. Spencer preach- 
ing occasion ally in the work -houses, an admirable school 
for young divines. Surely this is no inconsiderable 
circumstance in which our dissenting colleges are su- 
perior as schools of practical divinity, to those of the 
establishment. There the student emerges at once from 
the retirement of private life to all the publicity of the 
sacred office ; which sudden transition, to a delicate 
mind, must often be attended with considerable pain, 
and may lead, in the first few instances, to a confusion 
and embarrassment most distressing to himself, and 
most unfriendly to Ins prospects of future respectabili- 
ty and usefulness. On the other hand, with us the stu- 
dent gradually, almost imperceptibly, glides into the 
ministry, and by continued, but slow enlargement, of 
the sphere in which he is allowed to move, he rises from 
a few poor people in a work-house, to address the most 
respectable auditories. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. LQ7 

On Ms return to his father's house, for the Christmas 
vacation, Mr. Spencer preached for the first time at 
Hertford. It did not happen to him, as is often the 
case, that he had no honour in his own country. Num- 
bers pressed, urged no doubt, in the first instance, by 
curiosity, to hear him ; and those who are accustomed 
to mark the influence of similar circumstances upon a 
susceptible mind, will enter a little into his emotions, 
when rising to address, upon the most solemn of all 
subjects, a vast multitude of his fellow-townsmen, 
amongst whom he recognised many of his juvenile com- 
panions — the several members of his own family — and, 
not the least interesting object in the groupe, the ven- 
erable matron who had early instructed him in the 
principles of his mother tongue, and whose lot it was to 
observe the first faint dawnings of a talent, then fast 
hastening to its fullest exercise and strength. But long 
after the influence of novelty may be supposed to have 
subsided, he continued to excite the admiration of his 
native town. His first sermon at Hertford was preach- 
ed on the evening of Sunday, December 20th, at the 
Rev. Mr. Maslin's chapel, from Eph. v. 11, « And have, 
no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness? 
He preached again on the Wednesday evening follow- 
ing, and on the evening of Christmas day, on which oc- 
casion his text was, Mich. v. 2, < But thou, Bethlehem 
Ephratah, though thou be little among the thousands of 
Judah, yet out of thee shall he come forth unto me that 
is to be Ruler in Israel, whose goings forth have been of 
old, from everlasting? 

The passages of scripture selected by Mr. Spencer. 
as the subjects oflixS Earliest sfkcoitrses. afford anofh- 



108 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

er demonstration, in addition to many others* of the 
<reneral bias of his mind. They are such as one may 
well imagine a preacher panting for the salvation of his 
fellow men, would select for the commencement of his 
public labours. The topics which they suggest are of 
all others the most solemn, as they are the most sim- 
ple and the most important in the whole range of in- 
spired truth, and hence they were best adapted to the 
preacher's age, and the unlettered character of his au- 
ditors. It seems, that in his earliest sermons there was 
nothing of that parade and glare— nothing of that ex- 
cessive fondness of figures and love of imagery, which 
too often mark the first compositions of youthful preach- 
ers — preachers who, in a more advanced stage of thei r 
ministry, have not been less respectable or useful than 
he. 

Whether this is to be considered as an excellence or 
defect, it is probable, with some, may be a matter of 
debate. Dr. Blair, (or rather Quintilian, from whom 
he copies,*) in his remarks on the early compositions of 
public speakers, urges in favour of that exuberance of 
imagination and excess of ornament,— that time and 
experience will prune all this away, and in proportion 
as the fire of youth declines, the glare of the composi- 
tion, will sink into the settled lustre of maturer age. 
And hence he argues, for an excessive indulgence of 
the imagination at this period ; since by the time the 
powers are called into full and steady exercise, they 

* Quintilian again quotes from Cicero, the great master of elo- 
quence ; whose remarks on this subject are worthy his im- 
mortal pen. — Via. Quint, Just. Orat, lib. 11. ch= 4. et Cicero de 
Oral.- lib- 11. cb 21. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 10$ 

will have undergone a certain train of discipline, and 
have found their proper limits ; but if the composition 
has all the judicious sobriety of that maturer age. 
amid the vigour and vivacity of youth, what is it likely 
to be in the more advanced stages of its exercise, but 
cold, insipid, and dull. 

But surely all depends upon the nature of the subject, 
and the source whence the public orator is to draw the 
energy which must give animation to his discourses. 
The fire of genius, the glow of imagination, must be the 
enkindling, torches in the senate — at the bar ; but though 
not altogether useless in the pulpit, yet they are not 
the lawful sources of animation there. It is not the 
blaze of genius, or the glow 01 imagination 5 but the 
sacred flame of fervent piety, — the holy kindlings of 
a mind moved by principles derived from heaven, and 
the generous efforts of a soul impelled by an intense 
desire for the salvation of a dying world, that must im- 
part life and energy to the correct, but glowing state- 
ments, — -the warm and empassioned appeals of the am- 
bassador for Christ. Other sources of animation may 
be exhausted by exercise, and dried up by time ; but 
this can never fail. It will remain the same when the 
head of the venerable prophet is covered with hoary 
hairs, and the body is sunk in the decrepitude of age. 
Nay, as in the case of the apostle Paul, it will rise into 
brighter radience as he advances to the termination of 
his course,— a more ardent panting for the salvation of 
mankind will mark his dying hours, than that which at- 
tended his entrance on his labours ; and with David, 
the last prayer his spirit breathes will be for the univer- 
sal diffusion of that gospel, which it has been the bus?- 



110 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

ness and the honour of his life to preach — * Blessed be 
the Lord God, the God of Israel, who only doth won~ 
drous things. And blessed be his glorious name forev- 
er ; and let the whole earth be filled with his glory. 
Amen and Amen? 

We now arrive at a period in Mr. Spencer's history, 
peculiarly critical and important. During the vaca- 
tion of Christmas, 1807, the Rev. Mr. Liefchild, of 
Kensington, was supplying the pulpit at Hoxton chapel. 
One Sabbath afternoon, in January, Mr. Spencer be- 
ing then returned to the academy from Hertford, Mr. 
L. expressed a wish that he should assist him, in the 
public service, by reading the scriptures and engaging 
in prayer. The request was granted, and an extract 
of a letter obligingly addressed by that gentleman to me, 
will convey a lively picture of the deep impression which 
his appearance and manner produced upon the large 
congregation before whom he stood. 

" But when he appeared in the pulpit — after the 

first emotions of surprise were over, and after the mis- 
takes of some, who supposed that he was a little boy be- 
longing to the gallery, who, from ignorance or thought- 
lessness, had gone up the pulpit stairs, instead of those 
leading to his seat had been corrected, so sweetly did 
he read the chapter,* so earnestly, so scripturally, so 
experimentally, did he engage in prayer, that for the 

* On the evening of the following Sunday, Mr. L. addressed 
young people ; when Mr. Spencer again conducted the devotional 
part of the service. The chapter which he then read was Eccle- 
siastes xii. A person since received into the church at Hoxton, 
dated her first serious impressions from the reading of that chap- 
ter, and the solemn prayer then offered up. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. Ill 

whole six Sabbaths afterwards he became the chief 
magnet of attraction to the place. The people now in- 
sisted upon it he should preach. I need not name his 
subsequent success." 

The entreaties of the people having prevailed, Mr. 
Spencer, though contrary to the standing order of the 
institution, was allowed to preach. It was a delicate 
situation. Yet it was one to which he had long and 
anxiously aspired. Indeed, so strong was his desire 
for the public engagements of the ministry, that the fear 
of being long denied the gratification of his wishes, on 
account of his youth, actually preyed upon his spirits so 
severely as even to affect his health. But it was not 
from the love of fame or popular applause that he cher- 
ished this desire, but from the hope of being early and 
extensively useful ; — ^as if urged by a presentiment of 
his impending fate — immediately to commence those 
honourable labours from which he was to be called so 
soon. — When he appeared in the pulpit at Hoxtoo, a 
youth just seventeen years of age, he betrayed none of* 
that distressing anxiety which marks the candidate for 
public approbation ; but stood with all the dignified 
composure, and spoke witli all the unembarrassed ener- 
gy of an ambassador for Christ. His taxi was, Psalm 
xxxii. 6, ' For this shall even/ one that is godly pray un- 
to thee in a time when thou mayest be found ; surely in 
the floods of great waters they shall not come nigh unto 
thee ." At the close of his discourse, the sentiments 
which dwelt upon the lips and countenances of his au- 
ditors were those of pleasure, admiration, and sur- 
prise. His excessive youth— -the simplicity of his ap- 
pearance—the modest dignity of his .manner — the 



H2 MEMOIRS OF SPENCEfc. 

sweetness of his voice — the weight and importance of 
his doctrine — and the force — the affection — and the fer- 
vour with which he directed it, to the hearts and con- 
sciences of those who heard him — charmed and delight- 
ed, whilst the j edified. And retiring from the sanctuary 
to the social circle, they dwelt alternately on the love- 
liness of the preacher, and the importance of the truths 
which they had heard from his lips. 

Upon this scene the Christian student may, with ad- 
vantage, pause and meditate. Looking forward, per- 
haps with considerable apprehension, to the period of 
his public entrance on the labours of the ministry, he 
may be anxious to ascertain what was the secret 
spring — the hidden source, of that calm composure and 
unfettered boldness, which characterised the earliest 
addresses of this interesting youth. To such then I 
ean confidently say, — it was not the proud conscious- 
ness of superior powers, — of erudition — of genius, or of 
eloquence , but it was the influence of a heart warmed 
with the love of Christy big with the vast moment of his 
solemn theme, and panting with an ardour which no 
circumstances of difficulty could suppress, for the salva- 
tion of sinners. Such an influence as this will make 
the coward bold, and convert the most timid and feeble 
into valiant and successful champions of the cross. Be- 
fore an influence like this, the love of fame, — the glare 
of popularity, the opinions and the plaudits of mankind 
retire. No cor <=ideraf ion remains but that of the worth 
of immortal souls, and the importance of their salvation. 
This, under the agency of the eternal Spirit, whose as- 
sistance every faithful minister may with confidence ex- 
pect, will supply a closeness of appeal to arrest the 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 113 

attention — furnish topics of discourse to inform the 
judgment, and animated expostulations to warm the 
heart. When the blaze of genius and of oratory is ex- 
tinguished, this will continue with a steady flame. 
And whilst many, his acknowledged superiors in talent 
and in literature, are left behind, the preacher in whose 
breast it glows will be conducted to scenes of extensive 
usefulness, and the enjoyment of an honourable renown. 
Mr. Spencer now became the topic of general dis- 
course, — the subject of universal enquiry. His name 
spread far and wide. His danger became daily more 
and more imminent. Letters pressed upon him, filled 
with flattery — invitations arrived at the academy from 
all parts, for his services ; and he appeared, as a friend, 
who witnessed his sudden and extraordinary elevation, 
observed, like one standing on the brow of a precipice, 
amid the most violent gusts of wind. Disapprobation 
cannot be expressed in terms too strong of the conduct 
which is usually adopte/1 by the religious public towards 
their favourite, and especially their youthful preachers. 
And the censure which may, in a lamentable degree 
admit of universal application, falls with pre-eminent 
propriety on the professors of religion in the metropolis 
and its neighbourhood. There, indeed, by the constant 
accession of fresh objects, to the sphere in which they 
move, such a love of novelty — such a fondness of vari- 
ety — such a taste for something perpetually original . 

is excited and constantly fed — that whatever is uni- 
form and solid, in the ministry of their established and 
experienced pastors, while it secures the attention and 
regard of the judicious and discerning, is too often neg- 
lected as stale and insipid by the more lively antf en- 

no 



114 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCEK, 



lightened class of hearers. A new name is announced 
on the cover of a Magazine, or from the pulpit of some 
celebrated chapel, and thither the unstable multitude 
direct their steps. — They sit in solemn judgment on the 
preacher's manner — his appearance — his action, , and 
his voice; for amongst too many, alas ! it is to be la- 
mented, that the solemn truths which he delivers are 
but secondary objects of regard. If there should be 
nothing striking in his manner— nothing melodious in 
his voice,— nothing singular in his appearance — nothing 
peculiar in his system — and nothing particularly favour- 
able in the circumstances of his introduction to the pul- 
pits of the metropolis, there he may continue his ap- 
pointed period, and when it has expired, return to the 
peaceful village or the quiet town, where it is his lot to 
labour—- 

w The world iprgetting— by the world forgot." 



On the other hand, with this' class of hearers the 
preacher who secures their admiration instantly be- 
comes their idol. As if irresistibly impelled to ex- 
tremes, they lavish on him the warmest eulogies and 
adulation, often too palpable to be endured. Forget- 
ting that he is a man of like passions with themselves, 
they heap their honours on his head as though he could 
remain insensible to the plaudits they bestow, and per- 
fectly superior to the influence of every principle of 
pride. The following lines of the inimitable Cowper 
too well express the sentiments winch in these remark* 
must suggest themselves to every thinking mind, not to 
obtain insertion here ;— * 






MEMOIRS Ob bPENCEIi. 1\J 

" O Popular Applause ! what heart of man 

Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ? 

The wisest and the best feel urgent need 

Of all their caution in thy gentlest gales ; 

But swell'd into a gust — who then, alas ! 

With all his canvass spread and inexpert, 

And therefore heedless, can withstand thy power ? 

Praise from the rivell'd lips of worthless bald 

Decrepitude, and in the looks of lean 

And craving Poverty, and in the bow 

Respectful of the smutch'd artificer, 

Is oft too welcome, and may much disturb 

The bias of the purpose. How much more 

Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and polite, 

In language soft as Adoration breathes ? 

Ah spare your Idol ! think him human still. 

Charms he may have, but he has frailties- too. 

Dote not too much, nor spoil what ye admire." 

But the preaching of Mr. Spencer, even in his ear- 
liest discourses, was not of that light and meretricious 
kind which may secure the temporary* admiration of 

* I believe that general experience will justify the observation, 
that however attendant circumstances may contribute, in the first 
instance, to render an individual popular, nothing but sterling 
worth can secure its perpetuity ; and whenever the preaching of 
a popular minister has endured, without injury to his reputation, 
the ordeal of a ten or twenty years trial, he may safely be regarded 
as possessing an excellence superior to any thing his manner 
could exhibit But I feel the delicacy of the topic I have thus 
ventured to introduce, and gladly refer to illustrations of the same 



116 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

the wandering and unsettled. It possessed much of 
the solid, — the experimental, and judicious 5 and this 
secured him the attention and esteem of those, whose 
approbation any man would esteem it an honour to pos- 
sess. But this only tended to heighten his danger. 
God, however, gave him grace equal to his da v. His 
letters during his popularity in London breathe tlie 
same spirit of humility as that which marked his earlier 
correspondence 5 and a piety seldom surpassed in fer- 
vour and sincerity tended to preserve him steady in 
the midst of that tempestuous sea, upon whose billows, 
though young and inexperienced, it was his lot to ride. 
Numerous and pressing however as were the invita- 
tions from different parts of the metropolis and its neigh- 
bourhood, yet Mr. Spencer did not preach again in Lon- 
don (except in the work -houses, which the students 
regularly supplied, and also once in a small chapel in 
Hackney Road) until September. In the meanwhile 
his talent for preaching had ample exercise in various 
parts of the, country, which during this period he was 
allowed to visit. So that, from January 7th to Septem- 
ber 8th he preached no less than sixty times. The fol- 
lowing are the principal places which were then favour- 
ed with his labours : — Royden, Godmanckester, Ripton, 
Buntingford, Hertford, Dorking. Rumford, Harlow, 
Royston, Hadham, Hays, Chigwell, and Mill-Hill. At 

subject by more experienced and far abler hands. — See Fullers 
Life of Pearce ; and Jay's Life of Cornelius Winter. Books in 
which examples., the one of more public, the other of more retir- 
ed, but not less transcendant excellence, seem to live before us 
for our instruction. To every student for the Christian ministry 
they must prove an invaluable treasure. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. . 117 

all these places the attention he excited was consider- 
able, and the impression he left remains A\ith the people 
to this day.* 

Mr. Spencer's second sermon at Hoxton chapel was 
delivered on the evening of Thursday, September 8th. 
It confirmed the opinion of his excellence produced by 
the first. His text was, Acts x. 36, < He is Lord of all. 9 

The general sentiment of approbation and delight at 
first excited by his youthful appearance and his extra- 
ordinary pulpit talents, was now deepened and estab- 
lished, and he began to preach pretty extensively in the 
pulpits of the metropolis aud its neighbourhood. On 
Sunday, September 18th, we find him in the pulpit at 
Holywell Mount chapel, and on the Sunday following 
in that at Kennington chapel ; and on the afternoon of 
Sunday, December 13th, he supplied the chapel in Old 
Gravel Lane, Wapping.f During the autumn of this 
year he also visited several parts of the country imme- 
diately surrounding London ; *and he preached, among 
other places, at Upminsiar, ~Vpsom, Guilford, Roydon, 
and High Wycor.ibe. 

With respect to the wisdom and propriety of per- 
mitting such extensive public labours, in one so young, 
and at so early a stage of his academical course, there 
will be perhaps a diversity of opinion. On the general 
question, in which this is but an individual case, there 

* For specimens of his early pulpit compositions, see Appen? 
dix, No. U. 

f The church assembling- in Old Gravel Lane formerly sat un- 
der the ministry of the late Rev. Noah HjIi, but now enjoy the 
pastoral care of the Rev, Mr. Hooper, one of the tutors in the cok 
lege at Hoxton, 



118 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

can be but one sentiment. Nothing tends more to 
dissipate the mind, than much travelling and much 
society ; and particularly injurious to the fixed and 
laborious habits of a student's life is that kind of inter- 
course with society, which the young minister, in his 
occasional visits, usually obtains. The esteem in 
which, for the most part the name of a minister is held, 
in the circles which he enters, secures him an attention 
and an ease by far too flattering not to be injurious; 
whilst the refined and fascinating manners of some so- 
cieties but ill prepare the mind for the imperatively se- 
vere characters of academic life. But perhaps a far 
more serious object of regard is the time which is thus 
necessarily and irretrievably lost to the great and 
avowed object of his pursuit. — It is impossible to take a 
review of the past year of Mr. Spencer's life, and num- 
ber up the several places at which he has preached— 
at some of them two or three times, whilst others he 
visited more than once, calculating their respective 
distances from Hoxton, and the time necessarily occu- 
pied in travelling, together with the many hours, per- 
haps days, which must have been consumed in prepar- 
ing the discourses there delivered — without being 
struck with a conviction, of the immense loss which in 
a literary point of view r he must have sustained ; and 
the pursuit of literature is, after ail, the professed ob- 
ject of our dissenting colleges. Considering too, that 
this was but Mr. Spencer's second year of study, and 
connecting this with the shortness of the term he had 
to stay, and his exceeding youth, the impression is yet 
deepened. But Mr. Spencer's was an extraordinary 
case. His fort was the composition and delivery of 



MEMOIRS OF SPENDER. 119 

sfcrtttons. He was at home aVid happy only in this 
sacred work. He seemed but to live for this object. 
Other objects he might contemplate, with respect and 
even esteem, excited by an impression of their utility 
and excellence — on this his heart perpetually dwelt with 
a fervent and impassioned love. It was evidently for 
this God had especially designed him ; and for the 
work he had to accomplish, and the early account he 
had to render, — all perhaps are now convinced that 
he was not suffered to begin too soon. For one whose 
day of usefulness has proved so short, and over whom 
the night of death so early and so suddenly has shed 
its gloom, we cannot but rejoice that the first dawn was 
devoted to his honourable labour, and not even a solita- 
ry hour neglected, from the commencement to the ter- 
mination of his career.* 

Mr. Spencer preached again at Hoxton chapel on 
Christmas day, morning and evening ; and also deliv- 
ered an address, on the following evening, at the 
prayer meeting. A day or two after he left London 
for Brighton, and preached his first sermon in that 
celebrated seat of gaiety and fashion on the evening of 
Thursday, December 29th, at the Countess of Hun- 
tingdon's chapel, from Zach. vi. 12, * Behold the man 

* A contemplation of the facts connected with the interesting*, 
but melancholy history of Spencer, may however tend to shew, 
that, whilst much preaching and much travelling- are to be de- 
preciated as evils, especially in the earlier stages of a student's 
course, yet that no specific rules can be established in this case 
for universal and invariable application. On the propriety of 
the thing, in every case of students under their care, the tutors 
are the best qualified to decide. 



120 MEMOIRS OP SPENSER. 

whose name is the branch, and he shall build tlie temple 
of the Lord? On Sunday, 1st January, 1809, he 
preached in the afternoon at the Rev. Mr. Stiles' chap- 
el, and again in the evening at the Countess'. 

I am the more particular in marking the date of his 
first visit to Brighton, as it commences a new year, 
and forms also a most important epoch in his history. 
The interesting and endeared connexions which he 
afterwards formed there, tend to throw a new and 
brilliant light upon his character ; whilst they shed a 
softer air of melancholy around the circumstances of 
his early and lamented fate !* 

Alas ! of what moment to the Christian minister is 
the formation of connexions such as these. Delicate 
as the subject may be, and ill qualified as I feel I am 
to enter fully into its discussion, I yet cannot suffer it 
to pass without some observations on its vast impor- 
tance. — By imprudence here, how many have destroy- 
ed, if not their character, yet to an alarming extent 
their usefulness and comfort. Upon the partner which 
a minister selects much of his happiness depends. He 
must be indeed a chjld of sorrow, who with a heart 
broken by disappointment, and a brow clouded by 
care — such cares and disappointments as too frequent- 
ly impart a character of gloom to many a pious pastor's 
life — finds no relief in his domestic circle, and seeks 
in vain for the soothing influence of sympathy in the 

* Those who knew Spencer, will enter fully into the meaning of 
this paragraph. I owe it however to those who knew him not 
to say, that tenderness to feelings I should dread to wound, 
compels me to draw a veil over one of the most interesting 1 

scenes of his life 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 121 

individual whom he has chosen to be a 6 help meet for 
him? 

The important subject thus reluctantly though un- 
avoidably introduced, distributes itself into many 
branches, each interesting in its kind, on each of which 
age and experience might with considerable propriety 
descant ; and however unwilling I might be to enter 
more largely into the discussion, yet did I think myself 
sufficiently possessed of either, I would certainly rep- 
robate in the severest terms that rash and thoughtless 
haste which too often marks the decision of students 
and youthful ministers in this respect, and which too 
frequently leads to settled distress, — final ruin, — or 
shameful infidelity ! To the honour of Spencer be it 
recorded, that his choice in the first instance display- 
ed his wisdom : his uniform attachment until death, — 
his constancy! 

Mr. Spencer preached again at the Countess of 
Huntingdon's chapel at Brighton on Thursday even- 
ing, January 5th, and left that place on the following 
day. On the ensuing Sunday he preached at Hollo - 
way, morning and afternoon ; and on the evening of 
Tuesday the 10th, addressed an immense congregation 
from the pulpit of that truly excellent man the Rev, 
Rowland Hill, at Surry chapel. The subject of his 
discourse was Deut. xxxiii. 3, 6 Yea he loved the peo- 
ple $ all his saints are in thy hand, and they sat down 
at thy feet, every one shall receive of thy words P 

Between this date and the following midsummer, 
his labours appear to have been, in point both of num- 
ber and success, truly astonishing. He now preached 
jjnich in and about London, and wherever his name 
11 



122 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

was announced, the crowd that nocked to his ministry, 
proved how extensive and deep the impression was 
which it had excited. Besides occupying many of the 
most respectable pulpits in the metropolis, during this 
period, he visited and preached in the following pla- 
ces : Guilford, Epsom, Worthing, Barking, Roydon, 
Dorking, Bunting ford, Winchmore-Hill, Saffron, 
Walden and Hertford, 

During his stay at Worthing, which was in the month 
©f February, he made several excursions to Brighton, 
which became more endeared to him by every visit. 
The attachment was mutual. His ministry excited uni- 
versal attention : multitudes pressed to hear him. The 
public prints declared their admiration of his powers ; 
and the private circle forgot the trifling topics of the 
day, intent upon the discussion of his rare and extra- 
ordinary talents. More especially did he bind to him, 
in affectionate remembrance, the hearts of the young, 
by the warmth, simplicity, and affection of his addres- 
ses to them : and in no place which was honoured by 
his labours, was his worth more fully appreciated in 
life, or his loss more deeply and universally lamented 
in death ! 

On the evening of Thursday, the 18th of May, he 
preached again at Hoxton chapel. His text on that 
occasion was Isaiah lxi. 10, ' I will greatly rejoice in 
the Lord, my soul shall be joyful in my r God ; for he 
hath cloathed me with the garments of salvation, he hath 
covered me with the robe of righteousness.' 3 

But by so much preaching and fatigue, his strength 
became exhausted and his health impaired ; and during 
the midsummer vacation, the committee superintend- 



IvfEJIOIRS OF SPENCER. 123 

iog the stations of the preaching students, appointed 
Iiim to spend some weeks at Dorking, in Surrey, where 
the labour was but small, the retirement deep, the coun- 
try beautiful, and the air salubrious ! To this place he 
went in the beginning of July, — having first paid a 
visit to his family at Hertford, and preached again ia 
his native town. At Dorking he was committed to the 
care of Mrs. Alexander, a kind and pious matron, 
whose hospitable attention to ajl the servants of Christ 
who have had the happiness to repose beneath her roof, 
renders her worthy the appropriate epitjtaet of—" Moth- 
er in Israel." The praises of such pious women are, 
and ought to be, in all the churches. Happy is that 
congregation which possesses one or two such valuable 
and useful characters. To the youthful preachers who 
may be commissioned from their respective academies 
to labour for awhile in the congregations to which they 
belong, they often prove an inestimable blessing. By 
their timely assiduities, not unfrequently, diseases the 
most serious and alarming may be averted, by which 
valuable 'ministers might have been early snatched 
from the church and from the world ; and, at any rate, 
those little offices of unaffected kindness, in the per- 
formance of which they so much excel, will tend to 
soothe the anxieties by which, in early life, many a 
delicate frame is prematurely wasted and impaired I 

For Spencer too the spot was admirably chosen. 
Nothing could better suit his fondness for retirement, 
and love of social or solitary walks. I am not a 
stranger to the scenery — I once visited it, like him, for 
relaxation ; and the remembrance of those happy days, 
in a thousand pleasing pictures and enchanting forms, 



i-14 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

Crowds at this moment on my mind. The country is' 
sufficiently bold and varied tomspire with ideas of gran- 
deur and magnificence, though not so romantic and 
rast, as to excite astonishment and terror. From the 
summit of abrupt and lofty hills, clothed with luxuri- 
ant foliage, the delighted eye may roam at leisure over 
woods and valleys, that will not yield in fruitfulness 
and beauty to the fairest plains of Italy ; and in deep 
embowered glens, made cool and fragrant by meander- 
ing streams, the mind may yield to melancholy mus- 
ings and to solemn thought — so unbroken is the si- 
lence, — so profound the solitude !* 

* In one of these retired dells, where art has followed up the 
rude design of nature, a rustic temple, unadorned and simple as 
the genius of the place, affords to the weary wanderer its tem- 
porary rest. A grateful poet has left some tributary lines in 
honour of the scene, of which they are so descriptive, that I hope 
I shall be pardoned if I introduce them here : — 

Stranger, whensoe'er you come, 
Welcome to this rustic dome ; 
Welcome to the hill — the glade ; 
Welcome to the forest shade. 

To our simple homely fare, 
Come and welcome — banish care : 
Climb our hills, and health inhale, 
Borne upon the scented gale. 

Bury in this wooded glen, 
All the cares of busy men ; 
While the streams that round us roll. 
Sweetly murmuring, soothe the soul ! 






MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 125 

During his stay at Dorking it was his happiness to 
form a friendship the most intimate and endeared with 
Mr. J. Haddon, of London ; and on the return of that 
gentleman to town, Mr. Spencer began an epistolary 
correspondence with him, which continued till his 
death. A valuable assortment of these letters have 
been kindly put into my hands, and with the greater 
part of them I shall enrich these pages. The follow- 
ing is, I believe, the first in the series :— 

See, the glorious orb of day 
Gilds us with his parting- ray ; 
• Whilst above the woods afar 
Sweetly shines the Ev'ning Star. 

Stranger, rest thee here awhile, 
Till the morning sun shall smile, 
Then explore the fairy scene, 
Lovely as a wakmg dream. 

Worn and wasted- by disease, 
Pale and languid— ill at ease, 
Say, does health thy care employ- 
Health, the fost'ring nurse of joy ? 

Come, and chase her on our hills ; 
Meet her by our purLng rills ; 
Woo her mid our shadowing trees j 
Catch her on the balmy breeze ! 

Health and peace, and joy are here ; 
Come and welcome — banish care — 
Cease thy wand'nngs — lose thy woes, 
Yield to pleasure and repose ;" 

m 



126 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 

No. 15. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDOX. 

Dorking, July 25th, 1809. 

*• MY WORTHY FRIEND, 

'* I know no other way of expressing the 
pleasure your letters and your society have afforded 
me, than by endeavouring to repay your kindness, or 
at least by shewing you that I am sensible of the obli- 
gations under which I am laid by yoti. The pleasant 
interviews, the truly social walks, and the various oth- 
er enjoyments which we experienced together, have 
left an impression of attachment to yourself on my 
mind, which I am persuaded will not be easily oblit- 
erated. The country is indeed as pleasant in itself 
now, as it was the week before last ; yet, believe me, 
it is not half so much enjoyed by me as it was then. — 
The same streams indeed glide pleasantly along — the 
same hills majestically rise — the same enlivening pros- 
pects strike the eye, and pervade the soul, with admi- 
ration — and every thing around me seems to say, ' Tis 
Surrey still ? but there is a sad deficiency in all my 
perambulations — it is, ' that I am all alone.'* — Yester- 
day I went to Brockham ; but there was no Haddon to 

* This is a quotation from a beautiful poem of Henry Kirke 
White's, to whose charming productions Spencer was most ar- 
dently attached. The poem itself so accurately describes the 
state of his own mind, and the melancholy musings in which he 
indulged, in his solitary walks, when deprived of the pleasure of 



MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 127 

meet me on my way thither, or to return with me any 
part of the way home. Last Tuesday evening Mr. 

his friend's society, that I need not apologize for its introduction 
here :•— 

SOLITUDE. 

IT is not that my lot is low, 
That bids this silent tear to flow ; 
It is not grief that bids me moan, 
It is, that I am all alone. 

In woods and glens I love to roam, 
When the tir'd hedger hies him home ; 
Or by the wood-land pool to rest, 
When pale the star looks on its breast, 

Yet when the silent ev'ning sighs, 
With hallow'd airs and symphonies, 
My spirit takes another tone, 
And sighs that it is all alone. 

The autumn leaf is sear and dead, 
It floats upon the water's bed ; 
I would not be a leaf to die 
Without recording sorrow's sigh ! 

The woods and winds with sullen wail, 
Tell all the same unvaried tale ; 
I've none to smile when I am free, 
And when I sigh, to sigh with me ! 

Yet in my dreams a form I view, 
That thinks on me, and loves me too : 
I start, and when the vision's flown, 
I weep that I am all alone. 

To these mild complainings of this sainted bard, a reply, char- 
acterized by the same tenderness of thought and elegance of 



128 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

Moore very politely offered to take me to Epsom, to 
hear Mr. Clayton the next day ; which offer I most 
willingly accepted. On the whole, we had rather a 
pleasant day. Mr. George Clayton preached on Mat. 
xxi. 28. It may perhaps give you pleasure to hear, 
that I preached very comfortably last Lord's day from 
the new bible, which is exactly the thing. I should 
know very little of the trials and difficulties of life, 
were I always to live as I now do. I really feel some- 
times as if I needed something to quicken me to dili- 
gence, and put the graces of the Spirit in exercise, 
which, I am afraid, were I long to glide down life's 
stream so easily as I now do, would begin to die. Ease 
is a dangerous foe to the prosperity of religion in the 

expression, has been furnished by the pen of Mr. Josiah Conder. 
©f London : — 

ON READING THE POEM ON SOLITUDE, 

In the 2d yoI. of H. K. White- s Bemains. 

BUT art thou thus indeed alone ? 
Quite unbefnended — all unknown ? 
And hast thou then His name forgot, 
Who form'd thy frame and fix'd thy lot \ 

Is not his voice in evening's gale ? 
Beams not with him the star so pale ! 
Is there a leaf can fade and die, 
Unnotic'd by his watchful eye ? 

Each fluttering hope, each anxious fear — 
Each lonely sigh, each silent tear, 
To thine Almighty Friend is known : 
And says't thou, thou art " all alone !" 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 1%® 

soul, and opposition of some kind is essentially neces- 
sary for us who profess a religion winch is described as 
a race to be run ; as a battle to be fought, and which 
is represented to us by every metaphor which gives us 
the idea of active labour and unceasing exertion. 1 
hope to have the happiness of frequently meeting with 
you after my return to town 5 and I have the pleasure 
to inform you, that my appointments favour such in- 
tention. Mr. Wilson has written to inform me that 1 
shall preach in town for five Sabbaths after the vacation. 
The manuscripts you sent highly delight me. Mrs, 
Smith wishes me to leave Herbert with her, to which I 
know you will not object. I continue about the same 
in my health as I was when you left me ; and am very 
thankful that here I have not to preach so many times 
as at several other places. That the good will of Him 
who dwelleth in the bush may ever countenance and 
console you ; that the divine Spirit may ever lead you 
into all the truth 5 that you may possess every evidence 
that you have found favour in the sight of the Lord ; 
and that Christ Jesus may be your eternal portion, is 
my humble, earnest prayer. Let us hope hereafter to 
behold his face together, in a world where we shall be 
liable to change and separation no more, but where we 
shall be enclosed in glory, changeless as his own. Tins 
is the desire of one who can truly call himself 
" Your's most affectionately, 

"THOMAS SPENCER." 

" My kind hostess desires to be respectfully remem- 
bered to you. I expect I shall be in town next Tues- 
day." 



130 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

Mr. Spencer left Dorking after the last Sabbath in 
July, and preached the six following Sundays in and 
about London. The places at which he laboured dur- 
ing these six weeks were White-Row, Pell -street.. 
Jewm-street- Camden chapel, Adelphi-chapel, and 
Iloxton-cbapel. At Jewin-street he preached four Sab- 
baths, out of the six, afternoons and evenings. In the 
meanwhile his health still continued but indifferent, 
and indeed so much exertion both of mental and of 
physical strength was but ill calculated to promote its 
vigour. His mind however seemed every day to grow 
in activity and zeal. In the pulpit, — in society, he 
was all animation and life. Like most who are the 
victims of much nervous irritability, his flow of spirits 
was excessive, which frequently led to ungenerous and 
merciless observations from those, who either had not 
the wisdom or the candour to attribute, what might 
appear as levity in him, to its real cause. It is indeed 
an unhappy circumstance, when such is the natural ten- 
dency of a man's mental constitution, and from noth- 
ing perhaps have young ministers suffered more than 
from this. At the same time, it is a shame and scan- 
dal to the Christian world, that there should be so many, 
who, professing to be the friends of students and youth- 
ful preachers, encourage and excite this unhappy bias, 
for their own amusement, and are then the first to cen- 
sure the youth they have betrayed ! 

But where such is the natural disposition of a pious 
and devoted mind, its exercise in company is often fol- 
lowed by the keenest anguish and the deepest melan- 
choly, in hours of solitude and reflection. The severe 
and malignant censurer should remember, that he is 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 131 

not omnipresent ; and that there may be scenes in the 
retired life of the character he injures, which would 
put him to the blush ! These remarks have been sug- 
gested by some passages in the following letter. 

No. 16. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

Hoxton, August 15, 1809. 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I am sorry to inform you, that it is not in my 
power to gratify yourself, to please our friends, or to 
fulfil my own wishes, by devoting any evening in the 
week to visiting. T really cannot do it. My engage- 
ments this week are such as peremptorily to require 
my continuance at home, most likely till Sabbath day, 
at any rate till Saturday afternoon. I am obliged to 
those kind friends who expressed their concern about 
my exertions. I feel that I am not worthy of their 
sympathy. May their compassion lead them to pray 
for me, that I may be strengthened with all might by 
the Spirit in my inner man 5 and that He whose pleas- 
ure it is to increase strength to those that have no 
might, would help the infirmities of one who is weak- 
er than a bruised reed, and yet has undertaken an 
office, to the discharge of which an angel is incompe- 
tent. My health is certainly in a better condition than 
it has been, but I am afraid I am still far from well : 
my head frequently aches, and I feel a sickness in my 
stomach. These are some of the miseries that flesh is 
heir to 5 but it is a joyful thought, that in the kingdom 



1&2 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER-. 

of glory our bodies will be no longer susceptible of pain. 
nor our minds of disquietude. Perfect health, com- 
posure, and joy, will be our happy lot when we see each 
other in a better world. And can we not hope that we 
shall do this 5 and that forever we shall adore our com- 
mon Saviour together ? The leadings of his providence 
first brought us acquainted with each other ; and the 
methods of his grace will, I hope, lead us on to glory, 
and in our way thither make us helps to each other. 
Pray for me, that my diligence may be excited ; my 
levities checked ; and my spirituality promoted. Af- 
ter all I say against the world, I must confess with 
shame that I am very like many of the men of the 
world in this respect ; that I indulge in a lightness of 
disposition which is inconsistent with the character of 
a Christian, and makes us resemble those who never 
think of eternity and the solemnities of religion. 
Ah ! my dear friend and brother, I have experienced 
in my short life many a bitter hour, occasioned by 
my own folly in this respect. But what a scandal is 
it to a professing Christian, that natural dispositions 
and surrounding temptations should overcome a prin- 
ciple of grace in the heart — a principle which ought 
ever to operate powerfully in weaning us from folly, 
and making us every day more and more serious and 
holy. Never do you be afraid of cautioning, or reprov- 
ing me, but give me opportunity to prove that 5 Faithful 
are the words of a friend P I have felt more, in refer- 
ence to yourself, than I have ever jet expressed. 
More affection for you ; more gratitude that Providence 
placed you in my way ; and more determination to 
make you my counsellor and friend — than I have ever 



,)et told you. The Lord help us to strengthen each 
other's hands in his good ways. I shall not like 
your letters so well if you do not direct them your- 
self. This you will say is folly, but I cannot help 
it. Adieu ! 

" Yours affectionately, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 
& N. B. Saturday afternoon, if possible, I will see 
you." 

The history of the following month is from the pen 
of his most intimate friend. 

" At his return [from Dorking] he supplied Jewin- 
street meeting for a month, in the afternoons and eve- 
nings, where the attention he excited will not be easily 
forgotten. Before he left, numbers could not get 
admittance. The church were very anxious that he 
should settle among them,* but their desire could not 
be complied with. I have heard him blamed respect- 
ing that business ; but it was only by those who did 
not know the circumstances of the case. I was in the 
possession of his heart in that affair, and it would be 
unjust to his memory not to declare, that he was free 
from blame. His affectionate spirit keenly felt for 
them in their disappointment. ' The good people at 
Jewin-Street,' said he, in a letter to me, i have a strong 
claim upon our prayers f and it was to sooth their 
minds that he composed his sermon upon Isaiah xxxiii. 

* The church was then under the pastoral care of the Rev. 
Timothy Priestly, a truly venerable divine, whose age and infirm ; 
Lties rendered the aid of a colleague necessary, 

m 



134 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

20. The time of his supplying at Jewin-street, was 
very pleasant to me. I claimed the whole of his time 
between and after the services, which inclined him to 
enjoy that retirement which was so congenial to his 
lowly soul. When going to preach no one saw him. — 
I used to knock at his door — give in his refreshment— 
and watch the time for him. — It was from the mount 
of communion that he always went to the pulpit, and 
this caused his sermons to shine gloriously. — Frequent- 
ly in passing to the house of God we kept perfect si- 
lence, while his mind has been so entirely absorbed, 
that I have found a necessity for guiding him 5 and 
after worship he loved to stop as long as he convenient- 
ly could, that he might pass away unnoticed. — But such 
was the character of Spencer— -his deep humility— fer- 
vent piety — and amiable simplicity, that I am fully 
convinced it cannot be fairly stated without suspicion 
of exaggeration ; and I must confess, that I should have 
found great difficulty in giving fallen nature credit for 
the excellencies, which, from the closest inspection I 
saw resident in that truly illustrious and holy youth." 

The following letter, written on the Saturday previ- 
ous to the last Sabbath of his supplying Jewin-street 
chapel, discloses hi6 feelings with respect to the church 
in that place, and will prove to the people with how 
much affection he wrote and thought of them. Nor 
will it be less valuable for the spirit of filial love and 
duty which it breathes^ 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. IS5 

No. 17. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

September 2, 1809. 

« MY DEAR FRIEND, 

« Truly sorry am I in any case to disappoint 
you, and yet it must be so as it respects this evening. — 
Before seven o'clock I am necessitated to go from home, 
nor can I return till late in the evening. You ask, 
* can you not give up this engagement ?' I answer, this 
is impossible 5 because nothing short of filial duty is 
the cause of my absence from home. This morning I 
received a letter from my dear father, telling me that 
he must be in town to day, although he has been trav- 
elling in the country all the week, and he wishes me to 
meet him this evening, at half-past six o'clock. This, 
I am sure will be regarded as a sufficient reason by 
you, and nothing short of such a reason could induce 
me to go out at all this evening, for to tell you the truth, 
I am very unwell. My head and my side have suffered 
exceedingly for a day or two past, more especially to- 
day* Nor are my prospects of the morrow of the most 
enlivening kind. In fact, too, my spirits are very low. 
The sight of my aged parent may perhaps revive them, 
and make 4 my heart rejoice, even mine ." Mr. W. has 
just told me, that he has informed Mr. S. that I cannot 
supply them any longer than to-morrow. The opin- 
ion of the committee, &c. goes against them ! For my 
part, I can only say, ' My God, thy will be done P You 
will see me at Je win -street in the afternoon, but wheth- 
er able or incapacitated to perform my duty there. J 



136- MEMOIRS' OJf SPENCEft. 

know not. Pray for me. that much grace may comma 
nicaie to me sufficient strength. 

6i Whether well or ill, cheerful or melancholy, I am 
jour's affectionately 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 

Ha\ing completed his engagements at Jewin-street, 
Spencer's labours became again miscellaneous and 
widely diffused. On Sabbath day the lfth, he preach- 
ed at Roydon, a village near Hertford, when he avail- 
ed himself of the opportunity which this appointment af- 
forded him of visiting his family. I cannot but con- 
ceive the bliss which such occasional interviews would 
cause in that little circle, which had once the happi- 
ness to call him theirs. To them the recollection of 
those happy hours devoted to social or sacred inter- 
course with their departed friend, must yield a sooth- 
ing, though a melancholy pleasure. Nor is the reflec- 
tion less honourable to his memory, than it is consola- 
tory to their minds. In the midst of the unbounded 
popularity which he enjoyed — surrounded by new 
and splendid connexions — the admiration of listening 
crowds, each eager to express his approbation — all am- 
bitious of his friendship — he ever thought with the 
warmest affection upon those whom he had left in that 
obscurity from which he had himself emerged.— Glad- 
ly did he seize the opportunity, when it occurred, of 
retiring from the public eye to taste again the tranquil 
pleasures of his home, and enjoy the interchange of all 
those sacred and delightful feelings, which strengthen 
and endear the ties and obligations of social or domes- 
tic life.— He was not unduly elated by his popularity. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 1S7 

In his new associations he did not forget his kindred 
and his father's house. — His family did not sink in his 
regard, in proportion as he rose to eminence. The 
voice of universal praise did not drown the milder 
whispers of paternal love. — But in a heart whose best 
affections were devoted to the noblest objects, and to 
which new scenes of exertion were perpetually unfold- 
ing, the family at Hertford held an honourable and dis- 
tinguished place. The most extensive public engage- 
ments, are not incompatible with the retired duties of 
private life — and the cares and responsibilities of the 
most laborious ministry may be sustained and dischar- 
ged, without absorbing those affectionate regards so 
justly claimed by parental kindness and fraternal love. 
"Tis true, that as a Christian, and in his official capaci- 
ty, every believer in Jesus is to the faithful minister 
a father — a mother — a sister — and a brother. But as a 
matt the relations of life exist for him — and the feelings 
of humanity must be common to him too. A heart from 
which these ties are rudely severed — is but ill adapted 
to that soothing influence by which the office of the min- 
istry becomes a source of comfort to the wretched ; — 
and a man whose bosom is a stranger to the tender sym- 
pathies of human life — alike insensible to joy or sor- 
row — may with propriety administer the cold rites of a 
fctcical philosophy— but must ever be a living contrast 
to the religion of Jesus — a system whose character- 
istic spirit is that of the purest and tenderest philan- 
thropy. 

Before his departure for Roydon. the following letter 
was addressed by Mr. Spencer to his friend. The ob- 
servations at the beginning upon Christian boldness are 
*13 



138 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



judicious — and, though ignorant of the particular cir- 
cumstances which might have called them forth, cannot 
iail to prove interesting and instructive. 

No. IS. 



TO MK. JOHN HADDOX. 

Thursday Evening, Sept. 14, 1809. 

. : DEA& Fftl&Nty 

i; I know you wish me to write you a great deal ; 
but I must plead the old excuse — want of time : for I 
find that ■ . instead of calling to-morrow morn- 
ing, must have this directly, and I have but this minute 
left the chapel. You tell me your 4 mind recoils from 
public duty, however plain and clear,' and you need 
not to be told that this is a pity j and in this respect you 
ilo not display that Christian boldness which is after 
ail consistent with genuine humility — which the apos- 
tles displayed and enforced— which the Bible every 
where recommends — and which is well calculated to 
evidence our decided attachment to Jesus and his cause. 
it shall be my part, however, not to reproach you for 
the want of it, but to carry your wants before our Fa- 
ther's throne, and entreat him to nil you with all holy 
boldness and Christian courage ; whilst at the same 
time I would most earnestly entreat you to consider 
the foolishness of your fears : the little need we have to 
seek to please our fellow-creatures, or to dread them, 
and above all the constant inspection of Him who said, 
whosoever sliall confess me before men, him shall the 
Bon of Man also confess before his holy angels. But 



MEMOIRS Otf SPENCEllr 139 

I am persuaded that you are not ashamed of Jesus ; yet 
there is great need for us all to ask ourselves repeated- 
ly, < am I fully on the Lord's side ?' because this very 
examination itself produces the best effects, as it 
prompts us to give evidence before others of the reality 
of our hope, and it brings us near to God, who can make 
us strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus, and faith- 
ful even unto death. Your letters always affect me ; 
your company you know delights me ; and what shall 
I say of your attachment to me, but tlwt it meets return. 
I am often indeed induced to believe that you are too 
careful of me, and too much concerned about me. Ex- 
pressions of gratitude on my part from my mouth or pen 
I know you do not want, therefore I shall not trouble 
you with them. My mind is perfectly at ease about 
the present or future laws of the house, as well as about 
any situation after I have filled it. that I may be 
stayed on God ! I often think what a pity it will be, if 
from our friendship there should arise no good effect ; 
however here I am wrong, because I am myself a wit- 
ness that good effects have arisen to me ; but I long 
that to us there may be opened fresh sources of comfort 
and joy in God, and that we may then be made abund- 
ant blessings to each other. — I am going to preach next 
Sabbath at Roydon, a village near Hertford, where I 
have reason to hope God has owned and blessed my 
unworthy labours before. May he do so again. Per- 
haps I may go to Hertford to morrow afternoon, as it 
was the place of my nativity, and is now the residence 
of my dear father, my sisters, brother, and mother-in- 
law. I could say much more, (though in the same fee- 
ble and desultory style) but you perceive my paper is 



140 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



full. I cannot expect to see you at all till Tuesday. 
The coach comes in town on Monday evening, about 
half past six. If I can, I will walk then to Fleet-street. 
" Adieu, my dear friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 



From this period to that of his first visit to Liverpool, 1 
am not in possession of any remarkable occurrences in 
Mr. Spencer's history. At any rate, I am aware of none 
which tend to illustrate any particular feature of his 
character or of such a nature as to warrant their pub- 
lication to the world. But there yet remain many in- 
teresting letters to his friend, Mr. Haddon, which will 
tend very much to supply the want of a connected nar- 
rative — and that friend who during this period, enjoyed 
the most intimate acquaintance with him — and obtained 
a most accurate knowledge of his character, has furnish- 
ed me with a series of anecdotes and observations, 
which will make the reader familiar with the man, — 
and most strikingly exhibit the holy, humble and fervent 
bias of his mind. For the present I shall content my- 
self with making a selection from these letters, with 
such occasional remarks as may be necessary to illus- 
trate their subjects or occasions : whilst the character- 
istic sketches above alluded to. will occupy some of the 
succeeding pages. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER,- 141 

No. 19. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

Hoxton, Oct. 12, 1809... 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" With pleasure it is that I inform you, that I am 
appointed for Vauxhall. I feel pleasure, because this 
assignation gives us another opportunity of enjoying 
each other's society. I have not yet written to those 
friends in the country, but intend doing it to-mor- 
row. May the young lady die in such a peaceful and 
happy state of mind, as shall, instead of suffering the 
survivors to sorrow as those who have no hope, rather 
give them to say — Behold how he loved her! I men- 
tioned the circumstance to Mr. W. at the same time 
stating the wish of the Roydon people that I might sup- 
ply them on Sabbath day. Re told me it could not be 
complied with, assigning as a reason, that I was given 
out at Vauxhall. As the affair now stands, I am quite 
satisfied, because I wish to resolve all my appoint- 
ments into the will of the Head of the Church.—' Where 
he appoints, I'll go. '—Of all evils, I pray to be partic- 
ularly delivered from leaning to my own understand- 
ing, and indulging my own wayward will. May ob- 
stinacy never characterize me. May grace always be 
given me to suppress it when it rises. — To these re- 
quests I know, that from your inmost soul you say 
Jlmen. One of our fellow students has just delivered 
us a good sermon from — ' The righteous hath hope in 
his death 9 I enjoyed his sermon much more than I 
generally do those which are delivered to us on a 



24£ MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

Thursday evening. This was so experimental — fee 
scriptural — so pious, that it found its way to my heart. 
May you and I, whenever we shall come to die, have a 
lively, a sure and a certain hope of reigning in life by 
Jesus Christ. Whilst so many are called away around 
us, surely we should recollect the uncertainty of our 
own continuance upon earth ; and as death is still po- 
tent, still inexorable, and still delights to surprise, let 
it be our chief concern to have an interest in the affec- 
tions of the heart of that Saviour, who shall destroy 
this last enemy, and give to his followers a crown ol 
glory changeless as his own.— On him may we now both 
live by faith, that so when we have served our genera- 
tion according to his will, we may fall asleep in his 
arms. 

" Adieu I Your's affectionately, 

« THOMAS SPENCER.'' 

The young lady to whom he refers in this letter, ap- 
pears to have been one of the seals of his early minis- 
try, and then at the point of death. One of the letters 
written by him on that occasion, I am able to lay before 
the reader. 

No. 20. 
TO MRS. 



•* DEAB, MADAM, 

" Both your letters were safely and joyfully re- 
ceived by me. I say joyfully, because they shew that 
God is putting honour upon my feeble and unworthy la- 
bours, and making use of them for your spiritual wel- 



.NtEMOlRS OF SPENCER. 143 

fare — a circumstance that gives me more real pleasure 
than any other circumstance possibly could. You arc 
much mistaken in supposing that I neglected to write 
to you, because you had in your letters said any thing 
improper ; nothing could be more opposite to my ideas. 
Had this been the case, I should have felt it my duty to 
have set you right : but I can tell you what I can tell 
my God, when I say that I never heard or read an ac- 
count of a young convert which appeared more satisfac- 
tory, or filled me with more delight, than that which 
you give me of yourself. I say this not to puff you up 
with spiritual pride, but to make you more thankful that 
you have obtained mercy, and to assure you that your 
suspicions of any dissatisfaction on my part are alto- 
gether groundless. Rather would I exclaim, 'what 
fiath God wrought P and wrought too (well may I won- 
der) by his blessing upon my weak exertions. Oh ! let 
the glory be ascribed to Him who gives testimony to 
the word of his grace. The excuse I have to plead for 
not writing to you before, is want of time and multiplic- 
ity of engagements— for in the academy my time is not 
my own. I have just been writing a long letter to Mrs. 
W— — , stating my views, wishes and hopes, for the 
welfare of her amiable and beloved daughter. May 
she be resigned to the Divine Will, and ready when i;he 
heavenly bridegroom cometh ! From all that I can learn* 
I have no doubt of her interest in the affections of that 
same Jesus who is now, I trust, all your salvation and 
all your desire. When I recollect that she, a seal to 
my ministry, is apparently going to join the heavenly 
musicians in singing that song which no man can learn 
but the redeemed, it is impossible to express my 



144 MEMOIRS OF SEENCER* 

feelings. I am very desirous to hear from her own lijfe 
an account of the way in which the Lord met with her, 
and a statement of the sensations of her mind in pros- 
pect of the last conflict. I wished to come down to 
see her — I asked permission. — This could not be gran- 
ted me, because I was given out last Sabbath day at the 
place to which I am going. But I have the happiness 
of informing you, that the next Lord's day I shall 
preach at Roydon, and so shall have an opportunity of 
going to Thundridge Bury Farm. I hope that our cov- 
enant God is leading you in a plain path, and teaching 
you more of the corruption of your own heart and the 
love of Christ, by his holy Spirit. All I can recom- 
mend you to do is, to be much engaged in secret prayer 
to him. Oh ! aim to get near to him in holy commun- 
ion, then you will find a heaven begun below. You will 
have Christ for your constant companion, and you will 
obtain the desire of your heart. I view this as the time 
of your first love. May the zealous affection for Christ 
which I hope you now discover, increase yet more and 
more. Live by faith upon the Son of God, who loved 
you, and gave himself for you. Commit your soul in- 
to his hands, and the souls of all the members of your 
family. It is my earnest prayer, that you may grow in 
grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour 
Jesus Christ ; that so I may have to rejoice that you re- 
ceived the gospel when delivered by me, as in deed and 
in truth the' word of God and not of man. As for your 
request about a settlement for me at Roydon, I should 
recommend you not to expect it. I am always happy 
to come amongst you as an occasional supply, but I 
must venture no further. I have a variety of reasons 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 145 

for not considering it my duty to settle with any con- 
gregation as yet, or even to think of it, and I have thus 
far not engaged to do so at Roydon. Therefore I 
must request you not merely to check, but actually to 
eradicate the thought. Wishing you— your respected 
partner — and all your family, the best of blessings, I 
remain 

" Your's sincerely, 

"THOMAS SPENCER." 

Had he then been sufficiently advanced in his stud* 
ies to have cherished the idea of an immediate settle- 
ment—and had he been left to the free, unbiassed ex- 
pression of his feelings — there is no spot on which he 
would have fixed as the scene of his stated and pasto- 
ral labours, in preference to a village so tranquil and 
retired as Roydon. He did not value popularity, ex- 
cept as it afforded him an opportunity of doing good. 
No one ever was more averse to pomp or to parade* 
He loved simplicity in all its forms. It was indeed a 
characteristic feature of himself; and had not the pros- 
pect of more extensive usefulness allured him to a wi- 
der and more public sphere, his passion for retirement 
would have guided him in Ms selection of a residence 
for life. 

Talking with him on the subject of his health, which 
Seemed declining, beneath the pressure of so much ex- 
ertion, his friend said — •" Do you wish to be early laid 
aside — or do you desire a premature grave ?" " Oh no," 
said he, " you know my wish — to have a meeting in 
the country, surrounded by trees — occasionally to see 
Hie shadows of the leaves quivering on the walls, in the 
IS 



14G 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



reflection of the setting sun. — A burial ground near, in 
which I and my people can together lie !* To live a 
long, honourable, and useful life, bringing many souls 
to the Saviour ! — This is the summit of my wishes." 
Though it was denied him to enjoy the first, the last 
object of his desire, and by far the most important and 
dearest to his heart, he did possess ; for never was so 
short a ministry honoured by the conversion of so many 
souls. — Every week in Liverpool discloses some fresh 

* May I be indulged in another extraet from the poems of Kirke 
White ? It was a passage which Spencer often read with pe- 
culiar emphasis, and seems a melancholy comment on his own 
ideas. 

" Beneath this yew, I would be sepulchred. 
It is a lovely spot ! The sultry sun, 
From his meridian height, endeavours vainly 
To pierce the shadowy foliage ;" 

" 'Tis a nook 
Most pleasant." 

"Yet may not undistinguish'd be my grave : 
But there at eve may some congenial soul - 
Duly resort, and shed a pious tear, 
The good man's benison— no more I ask. 
And oh ! (if heavenly beings may look down, 
From where, with Cherubim inspir'd, they sit, 
Upon this little dim discover'd spot, 
The earth), then will I cast a glance below 
On him who thus my ashes shall embalm." 



" Wishing he may not long be doom'd to pine 
In this low-thoughted world of darkling wo ; 
But that, ere long, he reach Ms kindred skies,' 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 14" 

' instances of its success — and one and another is per- 
petually rising up to say— 4 By the grace of God I am 
what I am,' but it was the ministry of Spencer that led 
me first a humble suppliant to the throne of mercy." 

The situation of young ministers is peculiarly deli- 
cate and dangerous. The eyes not only of the religious 
public, but also of the world are fixed on them. And 
it is to be deplored, that where they have aright to ex- 
pect the greatest kindness, they often meet with an un- 
due severity ; and those who ought to be the first to 
throw the mantle of love over their defects, are not un- 
frequently the most forward and exulting in their ex^ 
posure. To an unhappy and inordinate love of scan- 
dal, many a fair and unblemished reputation has fallen 
the victim. The scattered wrecks by which they are 
surrounded, should inspire succeeding voyagers with 
caution. There is a cheerfulness, compatible with the 
deepest seriousness — the most fervent piety ; and there 
is a levity, in which the dignity of the minister and the 
sanctity of the Christian, may alike be lost. Where 
this is witnessed, whatever claim the individual may 
have upon the generosity aud lenity of the spectators, 
he has none upon their justice — they have a right to 
censure, — and however we may deprecate their sever- 
ity, — none can deny them its exercise. And here it 
is perhaps that students are most exposed to danger. 
Fatigued and wasted by the close application and in- 
tense thought of many studious weeks, they enter, as thev 
imagine, the circle of friendship, and instantly relax. 
Those who only see the effect, and are unacquainted 
with its cause, hastily form an unfavourable opinion 
of their character, and cruelly propagate the opinion 



148 



MEMOIRS OF SPENOEI& 



they have rashly formed.* These observations are 
not altogether inappropriate to the subject of the fol- 
lowing letter. 

No. 31. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON, 

Hoocton College, Oct. 37, 1809. 

'''MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" The expressions of affection your last letter, all 
your letters, and the whole strain of your conduct to- 
wards me evince, greatly affect me, and you will find 
my feelings upon the subject in Prov. xxvii. 19. Sanc- 
tified friendship appears to me to be one of the best 
sweets in the cup of life. * It is what the Saviour re- 
commended by his own example, and what the best of 
men have experienced beneficial in every age. May 
this kind of friendship be exemplified in us, and may 
\ye mutually share in the affections of the heart of Him, 



* I remember a case in point upon this subject — the mention; 
of which may not be useless. A student from one of our acade- 
mies had been spending" some days with a pious and intelligent 
gentleman in the country, who was in the habit of having- the ser- 
vants of Christ beneath his hospitable roof. On his departure, 
the gentleman accompanied his guest some miles on his road, and 
in the course of conversation said — " I cannot forbear expressing 
to you, Sir, the satisfaction which I have enjoyed in your society. 
I must confess that I have been too often grieved by the levity of 
students, whom yet I have highly valued ; but whilst you have 
displayed a cheerfulness which has enlivened our circle, you have 
preserved a uniform respect to your sacred office, which has se- 
cured the esteem and admiration of us ajl. v 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 149 

who, " having loved his own which were in the worlds 
loved them unto the end ."' To his will in all things 
we must bow, and in his dispensations, however con- 
trary to our inclination, acquiesce ; but " not my will 
but thine be done" is language which requires a large 
degree of grace to use in all cases, and from the bot 
torn of our hearts. 

" Many eyes are indeed upon me, and much do I 
fear that they will see something in me ere long that 
will take them from me. Your warnings are faithful, 
but my heart is still deceitful, and Satan may, for any 
thing I know, be about to sift me as wheat. You are 
not ignorant of his devices. Oh ! then, pray for me, 
that my faith fail not, so that, instead of the number of 
those who behold me, turning away from me with dis 
gust and aversion, they may rather glorify God in me, 
and take knowledge of me that I have been with Je- 
sus. The thought that affords me some degree of en- 
couragement, is that Jehovah knoweth my path, and 
that he is able to make me stand, yea to remove the sus- 
picions of those who 'fear and wait to see. 9 But real- 
ly I cannot help thinking that there are some people in 
the world who seem as if they wished for something to 
hinder one's usefulness 5 and who by their too signifi- 
cant expressions on the subject, lead me to suppose 
that they would rejoice in such a circumstance, and 
say, < Oh ! so would we have it.' And why ? Be- 
cause then their clever prophecies would be fulfilled, 
and we should for the future put such confidence in their 
forebodings as to view them as certain omens of ill 
events. I do hope, however, that God will in great mer- 
cy either keep me from the snares that lie in my way, 
or take me to himself, 

•IS 



150 MEMOIRS OF SPENCfeR. 

• 

" I have to day written to the Kidderminister peo- 
ple, referring them to the Doctor, or Mr. Wilson. I 
will try and be with you to-morrow by 12 o'clock. Do 
not be disappointed if I should not be able. 
" I remain your's affectionately, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

On Sunday the 5th of November he was appointed 
fo preach at Cambridge, in the pulpit lately occupied 
by the Rev. Robert Hall, A. M. a name dear to genius, 
as to religion. The day following he spent in view- 
ing the University. In a letter dated the 3d he says, 
" last night my surprise was excited by seeing that I 
am not appointed on the list for any place in town, but 
for Cambridge. I am to stay Monday over at Cam- 
bridge, to look at the colleges, &c. I shall think much 
of Kirke White ;" and aware of the respectability, both 
in wealth and talent, of the congregation he was called 
to address, he adds, " the Lord make me prudent and 
faithful ; may it appear that he has some good end to 
answer by conducting me thither." 

He was exceedingly attached to the poetry of Henry 
Kirke White. He could repeat a great part of it, and 
frequently quoted it with great emphasis and feeling. 
" And yet," said he, in conversation with the friend to 
whom these letters are addressed, " there is a thirst 
for fame sometimes discovered which pains me. 

** Fifty years hence, and who will hear of Henry." 

*" Well suppose nobody does, and what then ? If Henry 
has served his day and generation, and is gone to glory, 
neither the ehurch nor he will be losers $ and the hear- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 151 

ing of Henry will be too small a consideration to be 
brought into the account." 

Public as Spencer's life had now become, and expo- 
sed as he was to the influence of every unholy passion 
which popularity might awaken, he yet maintained a 
close and humble walk with God. He courted soli- 
tude, and for the best of purposes. Of him it may be 
truly said, f his fellowship was with the Father, and 
with his Son Jesus Christ ? The holy and the heaven- 
ly tone his mind received in those retired hours, gave 
a peculiar unction to his ministry ; and the knowledge 
which by deep communion with his own heart and con- 
stant intercourse with God, he had obtained, rendered 
his preaching remarkably profitable to believers, and 
gave him a skill in administering instructions adapt- 
ed to all the varieties of their experience. Of this the 
following is a pleasing specimen. 

No. 22. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

November 9, 1809. 

** MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" Be assured that I, as well as yourself, have walk- 
ed in darkness, and complained that there was no 
light. Fluctuations in experience are, I am sure, my 
lot, whilst my only consolation in such circumstances 
still remain — .'tis the unchangeableness of Christ. Oh ! 
what is so calculated to reconcile our minds to the 
way our Father calls us to travel, as the recollection, 
that whilst we are found in it, Jesus is the same, and 
that to the end of the journey; and in every trying 



152 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



circumstance he is a present help. In darkness he 
will enable us to trust in the Lord, and to stay ourselves 
upon our God 5 yea he will cheer our desponding souls 
with visitation sweet. Seasons in which we experience 
darkness of mind, and depression of soul, are necessa- 
ry : they form the analogy between us and those who 
through tribulation are gone to heaven : they render 
us fit subjects for the illuminating and refreshing g r ac 
of Christ : they add a higher relish to the renewed en- 
joyment of the light and liberty of the gospel ; and they 
serve to prepare us for that world where the Lord 
shall be our everlasting life, and our God our glory. 

" Reflecting upon deliverance from such times of 
depression should teach us to say — >< Return unto thy 
rest, O my soul, for the Lord hath dealt bountifully 
with thee ." It should lead us to anticipate future fa- 
vours, and rejoice that He that hath delivered us can 
and will deliver ; and since the day has dawned, and 
the shadows have fled away? we should most cordially 
adore Him who has been appointed to give light to 
them who sit in darkness, and to guide our feet into 
the way of peace. May you and I ever enjoy the pre- 
sence of Jesus, our best friend ; share in his tender sym- 
pathy ; his kind reproofs ; his excellent counsels. May 
he be our God forever and ever, and our guide even 
unto death. Then we need fear no evil. If sensible 
that he is with us, we may pass through midnight 
glooms, and experience a season of great darkness, 
and yet look forward to a future time, when with pleas- 
ure we shall sing, ' The Lord is my light, of whom 
shall I be afraid. 9 Oh ! that I may be enabled to corn- 
nut your soul and my own into the hands of Jesus as 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 153 

unto a faithful Creator. I can now add no more, than 
to say that 

" I remain affectionately your's, 

"THOMAS SPENCER/' 

The next letter furnishes another proof of his humil- 
ity and diffidence. It was written the day before it be- 
came his turn to preach again in the chapel at Hoxton the 
Thursday evening lecture, which the tutors usually at- 
tend. 

No. 23. 

TO MR. HADDON. 

December 6, 1809. 

« MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I am sensible that Mr. S.'s politeness ' merits* 
much of us, and if I must name some day for us to 
meet there it must be Monday next. This we will 
speak of to-morrow evening. I am sorry you have been 
so busy about so worthless an object as myself. I need 
not say, pray especially for me, that a divine blessing 
may attend me to-morrow evening in preaching before 
those whom you know I too much dread as hearers.— 
i The Lord grant unto his servant, that with all bold- 
ness he may speak his word.' I trust your desire and 
expectation of obtaining good on Friday evening will be 
gratified. My mind is rather more composed than it 
has ever been before, when I have had to preach here 
on the Thursday evening. How it will be when the 
time comes, I know not. Many eyes are upon me. 



154 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

and different, very different are the feelings with which 
my brethren hear me. But if the Head of the Church 
gives each of them a blessing, they will I hope be safc 
isfied. 

i: Your's affectionately, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

It is indeed much to be regretted, that any feeling? 
ftut those of mutual affection, forbearance, and candour, 
should be cherished in the hearts of brethren— and such 
surely are the students in the same academy. But in 
the present imperfect state of our nature, it must be 
expected, that superior excellence, while it is the object 
of universal admiration abroad, will, in too many in- 
stances, be exposed to the malignant glance of envy 
and of jealousy at home. And when the scourge of 
criticism is supplied with knots by these, who but must 
expect to smart beneath its strokes. It is certainly to the 
honour of the institution to which Mr. Spencer belong- 
ed, that its members for the most part knew, admired, 
and confessed his worth; — and if there were any excep- 
tions — let them remain in that oblivion in which is their 
best security.* But the solemn admonition of his early 

* " Those who admire and cherish rising talent, can have no 
bitter reflections when they contemplate the grave of Spe^cee. 
They hailed his entrance into public life, and strengthened his 
hands by their prayers and their approbation. Those who 
could envy him, and such I know there were, must be covered 
with merited shame, when they behold him so early stript of those 
honours, talents, advantages, and successes, which exposed him 
to their jealousy and malignity. If these unworthy men were 
before me, I would * speak daggers to them, but use none T* 
See Stiles' Funeral Sermon for the Bev. T. Spencer, page 2%. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. £535 

death, should tend to check the bitter exercise of that 
unhallowed sarcasm by which the rise of extraordinary 
usefulness or genius is too frequently assailed. In 
academies of religion and literature, where the avowed 
object of every student is, riot his individual advance- 
ment, but the glory of God, a spirit of detraction and 
envy ought to be unknown. The most devoted and 
useful, should be most esteemed. Every private inter- 
est should be lost in the general welfare of the church 
of Christ. One may behold, indeed, with less concern^ 
the strokes of satire when they fall upon the arrogant, 
the presumptuous, and the vain ; — but when talents are 
attended by humility — when popularity is connected 
with diffidence — and eminent piety is mingled with ex- 
traordinary displays of genius, — to such an object the 
severity of sarcasm is improperly directed, and every 
well-regulated mind must view its exercise with pain. 
About this time his health again declined. A severe 
cold for some days deprived him of his voice — and he 
was compelled to rest one Sabbath day from his public 
work. What were his feelings in prospect of that Sab- 
bath, this letter will declare. 

No. 24. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

December 6, 1809. 

<* MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" It appears that your suspicions that I should 
preach three times to-morrow, will not, cannot be real- 
ized, for Mr. Western, as well as tfcose areund me are 



156 MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 

agreed, that I must not go to Hertford at all, judging it 
dangerous for me to go out, much more so to preach. 
Yesterday I passed a miserable day. The thought of 
the pain of mind the letter I sent home would occasion 
to my friends, hurt me much, and I was much worse 
than I had been before, as my lungs and throat felt 
more inflamed. To-day I think I am better, but still 
very far from well. I can scarcely bear the prospect 
of a silent Sabbath. I think I shall be quite out of my 
element to-morrow. Oh ! that I did but more firmly 
believe, that he who is my Saviour does all things well, 
and that he who sustains the dread character of Judge 
of all the earth must do right. If I am able, I shall 
hear Mr. Hordle in the morning. I have no voice yet. 
I hope it is not irretrievably lost. I need not say 5 that 
if you can call this evening it will give me unspeakable 
pleasure. 

" Yours affectionately, 

"THOMAS SPENCER." 

Reflecting on this temporary indisposition in a letter 
to his father, he says,—" I have reason to hope that 
the measure of affliction with which our heavenly Father 
thought fit to visit me, has been made a blessing to my 
soul. It gave me time for reflection and close self ex- 
amination. It gave a new zest to my feelings, and 
when it was removed, I hope I was inspired with fresh 
ardour to live for the glory of God." 

Amid the constant bustle of a public life, the retire- 
ment which temporary indisposition affords, must be 
most beneficial to a pious mind. Then it can relax in- 
to a calm and intimate communion with itself. It can 



M&MOlftS OF SPENCKIt. 157 

quietly indulge in' such a review of the past — and such 
an anticipation of the future, as will tend not a little, 
under the sanctifying influence of the Holy Spirit, to 
curb its impetuosity — correct its levity — and regulate 
its principles. From the chamber of sickness, the ex- 
ercises of the pulpit will be furnished with materials of 
the highest order 5 and the beds of the diseased will be 
attended with a sympathy, which experience of similar 
affliction only can excite. 

The greater part of the Christmas vacation Mr. 
Spencer spent at Brighton, and on the first day of 1 the 
year 1810, he preached at the Rev. Mr. Styles' chapel, 
to young people, from 2 Chron. xxxiv. 27, 28. ' Be- 
cause thine heart was tender, and thou didst humble 
thyself before God, when thou heardst his words against 
this palce, and against the inhabitants thereof and hum- 
bledst thyself before me, and didst rend thy clothes and 
iveep before me : I have even heard thee also, saith the 
Lord, Behold I will gather thee to thy fathers, and thou 
shalt be gathered to thy grave in peace. Neither shall 
thine eyes see all the evil that I will bring upon this 
place, and upon the inhabitants of the same.'* 

The good seed which he was the instrument of scat- 
tering in Brighton, very rapidly sprang up. In a letter 
to his father, written immediately on his return from 
thence, and dated Jan. 12th, 1810, he says, « a young 
person who heard me at Mr. Styles' last year, was cal- 
led by divine grace under my instrumentality, and died 
before I went this time, bearing an honourable testimo- 
ny to the religion of Jesus, and to her interest in it. 
Oh ! what hath God wrought !" 

During his stay at Brighton, he had occasion to so- 
14 



158 MEMOIRS Ot SPENCER. 

licit a favour of his friend in London, the performance, 
of which was acknowledged in the following letter. 



No. 25. 
TO MR. HADDOX. 

Brighton, January 1, 1810. 

6i MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" However you may smile at the idea of my wri- 
ting you a < letter of thanks,' I assure you I think you 
have a claim upon it, for you have done for me what I 
should have liked few others to have done 5 but suffice 
it to say, it came safe to hand. Last Thursday eve- 
ning I preached on Luke xxiv. 32. Yesterday morning 
at the Countess', on Eph. ii. 14. In the evening at Mr. 
Styles', it being the close of the year, on Exodus xxiii. 
20. To-night I shall only preach, as one minister will 
commence and another close with prayer. It is said 
that I shall preach at the chapel on Thursday evening. 
You ask me, where I shall be next Sabbath. Many 
advise me to remain at Brighton ; but it is my present 
intention to return home on the Friday, though I really 
feel myself in a difficulty about it. I hope I have, since 
I have been at this place, enjoyed the divine blessing 
— those with whom I associate are the excellent of the 
earth— with no others have I any occasion to be at all 
connected. In this respect I am like your good friend 
Mr. H. of Westminster. We certainly do not in gen- 
eral sufficiently estimate the worth of the society of 
those who discover the mind that was in Christ ; — great 
is the benefit we may derive from their company. Oh I 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. - 159 

let those of us who fear the Lord speak often with one 
another ; one ma} r thus come at each other's follies, and 
stimulate each other to the performance of that good, 
acceptable, and perfect will of God. I think my cold 
is getting better. After I had preached last night, a 
valuable young Scotch clergyman, who 'was there, 
wished I might live to preach many such sermons— 
What could I say, but * all the days of my appointed 
lime will I wait Hill my change come? It is a great 
satisfaction to know, that we are training up for heav- 
en, and 6 ripening apace for the vision of God.' Pray 
for me, that this perseverance may be given me. You 
know my object is the glory of God in the good of souls, 
— that this may be accooiplished, by my exertions, is 
my prayer, my hope, my aim. Whether living or dy- 
ing, may we be the Lord's. I have, however, at pres- 
ent no other idea, than that I shall be spared yet, and 
not die, but live' and declare the works of the Loi*d.* 
Wishing you the enjoyment of the good will of Him that 
dwelt in the bush, and assuring you of my steady at- 
tachment, 

" I remain yours affectionately, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 

On Wednesday, the £8th of February, being a day 
appointed for a general fast, Mr. Spencer preached a 

* Alas ! how blind are we to futurity ! A clergyman not long 
*ince, while uttering these very words in the pulpit, suddenly 
turned pale— his voice faultered— lie fell back and expired ! Lit- 
tle did the amiable Spencer think, that the hand which thus con- 
veyed to his friend the pleasing- anticipation of a long and usefH. 
life, should lie so soon in the impotence of death I 



160 MEMOIRS OF SPENCEEr. 

vermon at Hoxfon chapel, adapted to the occasion ; his 
text was Ezek. lx. 4, « Go through the midst of the city, 
through the midst of Jerusalem, and set a mark upon 
the men that sigh and cry for all the abominations that 
are done in the midst thereof. ' The general scope and 
style of this sermon may be ascertained by the follow- 
ing extract from the communication of his friend : — 

• ; A minister said to me, ' I don't know how a good 
fast sermon can be preached, without touching upon 
politicks.' — ■< If you will hear Spencer to-morrow, I 
think you will find that it can be done.' When we 
met again, he told me that he had heard an excellent 
fast sermon, without a word upon politicks. I remem- 
ber, that in that sermon he said, * when your ear is 
oained with oaths and imprecations as you pass the 
street, remember that that swearer is your fellow coun- 
tryman, calling for vengeance upon your country, and 
do you, by ejaculatory prayer, strive to avert it.' 

To enter into a minute detail of the places at which 
Mr. Spencer preached between this period and the en- 
duing vacation, would be useless. Suffice it to say, 
i hat his labours were unremitting — that he visited sev- 
eral congregations in the country — particularly those 
at Hertford, Beading,' Henley, and Brighton. 

He was appointed one of the three students who 
-.iiould deliver the public orations at the coming anni- 
\ ersary — held at midsummer. This preyed with con- 
siderable anxiety upon his mind, and although one 
should have imagined that by this time he had become 
familiar with large auditories and critical hearers— yet 
we find him shrinking from the task, and expressing 
many fears respecting it. The subject allotted to him 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 161 

was, "The influence of the gospel on the spir- 
it and temper." His colleagues in that trying ser- 
vice was, Messrs. John Burder and Stenner ; and to 
these gentlemen were given as topics of discussion, 
" The doctrine of the atonement," and " The 
influence of the Holy Spirit." The day before 
that on which the discourses were to be delivered, he 
expressed his feelings thus :— 

No. 26. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. « 

Jloxton, June 19, 1810. 

■" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" Consonant with your request, I here trans- 
mit to you the notes of the sermon on Eutychus : if you 
can, let me have them again before I go into Lanca- 
shire. You mention to-morrow $ and oh ! what anxiety 
do I feel in the prospect of it ; already it has cost me 
some tears, it may cost me many more. Would to 
God that I may experience the assisting grace of Him 
who has before proved himself able to do for me ex- 
ceeding abundantly above all that I could ask or think 
6i If the light of his countenance shine upon me, then 
I shall shine in the sight of heaven, and in the eyes of 
his saints, who know and can recognise the reflections 
of the Saviour's glory. From what I can anticipate of 
the congregation, it will be terrific 5 but does not the 
promise, ' lam with you always ,' extend to particular 
occasions ? Most certainly it does \ then it takes in. 
this trying service. May I. have faith -and trust in i% 
*14 



Ji62 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER.' 

and be favoured with an experimental confirmation of 
its truth. Believing that you do sincerely and con- 
stantly commend me to the kind care of your Fa- 
ther and my Father, of your God and my God, I re- 
main 

" Affectionately your's, 

" THOMAS SPENCER," 

We now arrive at the period of Mr. Spencer's first 
visit to Liverpool. Before we pass on with him to that 
new and interesting scene, it may be well to pause, 
>and take such a general view of his mode of thinking 
and acting, while a student, as the following character* 
istic sketches from the hand of his most intimate friend, 
will furnish. I shall present them in a miscellaneous 
way just as they occur. Thus the reader will converse 
with him, — hear his own sentiments, expressed in his 
own language, and imperceptibly become familiar with 
the man. 

« That passage,' said he, ■ is much upon my mind' 
— * Let no man despise thy youth.' I understand the 
apostle thus : — Let your walk and conduct be such, that 
no man can despise thy youth. And such shall be my 
own." 

He was favoured with peculiar facility in composi- 
tion. « Many a sermon,' said he, ' have I composed be- 
tween Hoxton and your house.' His ideas flowed fast- 
er than he could write them, and when alone our con- 
versation has met with frequent interruption from his 
stopping to commit to paper, before they escaped him, 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER* 163 

the ideas crossing his mind. Turning to me privately, 
as I sat by his side one evening at the tea-table of a 
friend, < Look at that,' said he, < will it do ?' It was the 
sketch of a sermon, which he had composed during the 
conversation. * I don't know,' said he, (and those who 
suppose my friend was boasting, did not know him) 
i I don't know,' said he, ' that for a long time I have 
had time enough for any one sermon ; I was crampt 
in every head for want of time.' His sermons at that 
time were 65 minutes to 75 in preaching ; though his 
hearers were not aware of it." 

"In composing, he used to fold a sheet of foolscap 
paper in eight leaves, leaving the last side for the heads 
of application. However long the sermon might be, he 
never wrote more of it, and in preaching, varied the 
sermqn every time he preached it. * How do you ob- 
tain your texts ?' < I keep a little bx>ok in which I 
enter every text of scripture which comes into my mind 
with power and sweetness. Were I to dream of a 
passage of scripture, I should enter it ; and when I 
sit down to compose, I look over the book and have 
never found myself at a loss for a subject." 

" His memory was remarkably tenacious 5 he could 
regularly repeat every service in which he had ever 
engaged, with the chapter which he had read, and 
those of his acquaintance who were present. Re- 
turning from Holloway, after preaching, said he, < Did 
you perceive any thing particular in me this morning ?' 
4 No.' i I was very ill in the pulpit ; my memory to- 
tally forsook me ; I could not recollect my subject, but 



164 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER^ 

having my notes in my pocket, I took them out and 
read them.' ' I am glad of it ; I give you joy ; you can 
no longer condemn assistance to an imperfect memory. 5 
6 O no, I boast no more ; from henceforth, I am silent 
upon that subject." 

" The young man that has just passed my study 
door,' said he, ' is fearful that he shall not keep up 
variety in his sermons. The best way that I find to 
attain variety is continually to ask myself * What i3 
there in the circumstances before me, that will benefit 
my sermon on Sabbath morning ?' for a minister should 
turn every thing into gold. And by keeping my eye 
continually upon that point, I am seldom at a loss for 
variety." 

" Few persons have held pulpit eloquence in higher 
estimation than Spencer did, or in more contempt when 
it stood in competition with the interest of souls. I 
remember asking his opinion of an eloquent sermon 
which he had been hearing — ' Why,' said he, < I could 
have wept over it — I could have wept to hear immortals 
so treated." 

" Your morning sermon yesterday w r as approved, but 
not that in the afternoon.' * No,. I suppose not, and 
I will give you the reason. In the morning, when I 
preached on privileges, they were pleased ; but when in 
the afternoon, I came to duties, they remembered their 
treatment of their late venerable pastor. I particularly 
respect aged ministers, and love to assist them, ancl 
generally add a trifle to the collection, when I have 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. I65 y 

beteta preaching in behalf of a church which has an aged 

minister." 

" He was much tried by the envy of some little minds. 

* Mr. S.' said — ■ — to him, 6 You was very late, I hear, 
at Walworth.' < Yes, Sir, and there you may see your 
own error : you know you say I am too eager for the 
pulpit, now you see your mistake.' At another time, 

• Spencer,' said a person whose name shall be secret, 
; Popularity is a dangerous thing.' i It is.' ' No one is 
popular long.' * Very true.' ' You are popular now, 
but you will not be so long.' ' That I certainly shall 
not, Sir, if your ivishes are accomplished 5 but I fully 
believe, that my popularity hurts you more than it does 
me.' The bell soon after summoned him to read (in 
his turn) a sermon for general criticism. The first per- 
son called upon said, that its merits were such, that he 
had nothing to say of its defects. That sentiment was 
universal. * And,' said he to me afterwards, ' when 
I considered what had passed, I felt that that was a mo- 
ment of gratificati on . " 

t; A lady, who had misunderstood an idea in his 
sermon, wrote me a hasty letter, charging him with 
antinomianism, and me with gross impropriety in hear- 
ing him. It was Saturday night, and he was to preach 
in the same pulpit the next day. I went to inform him 
of the circumstance, that he might take an unperceived 
opportunity of explaining himself. He held out his 
hand to give his usual affectionate squeeze, when I drew 
back. « I don't know how to shake hands with an 
antinomian.' < An antinomian ! What is the matter r 9 



166 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

* Read this proof of it.' He read it ; his pleasanfir y 
subsided; and with a countenance which spoke the 
feeling of his noble soul, ' 0,' said he, ' this letter does 
me good. — The attention of that congregation would 
have led me to suppose that they were pleased, and per- 
haps profited by what they heard ; and yet you see that 
there were those present who not only misunderstood 
me, but supposed that I was a preacher of an tinomian- 
ism. This letter does me good \ for sometimes Satan 
claps me on the back, here in my study, and says, < That 
sermon will do very well, and especially from one so 
young as you' — and then I begin to mount, and fancy 
that I am somebody 5 but such a letter as this clips my 
wings — and then,' said he, (with undescribable expres- 
sion) < I drop into my place, — the dust. Do bring me 
all the intelligence of this kind that you can." 

"Howl wish they would begin the service with 
Watts' 152d hymn, 2d book.* That hymn always 

* SINAI AND SION.—Heb. xil 18, &c. 

" NOT to the terrors of the Lord, 

The tempest, fire and smoke ; 
Not to the thunder of that word, 
Which God on Sinai spoke ; 

But we are come to Sion's hill, 

The city of our God, 
Where milder words declare his wilfr, 

And spread his love abroad. 

Behold th* innumerable host, 
Of angels, cloth'd in light ? 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 167 

t 

soeths my mind in the opening of worship. My whole 
soul enters into it, especially the last two verses.' 

* Why do you not request that it may be given out ?' 

* Because it does not become one of my age to dic- 
tate.' 4 'Tis no dictation, but a gratification of your 
friends; it secures congeniality through the service 
when you mention the hymns you wish. 5 ' And 
can we have it to Stanghton P ' No, to Prospect,' 1 ' 
i No, no, Staughton ; that is my tune for a common me- 
tre, and Shirland for short metre*' The 5th verse he 
frequently quoted." 

" One day mentioning to him an interesting text of 
Mr. Cecil's, preached on the last night of the year, said 
he, * That will just do for me to preach at Brighton, to 
conclude the services of the present year. But don't 
shew me Mr. Cecil's 'till I have composed mine. I 
would not borrow a single idea." 

Behold the spirits of the just, 



Behold the bless'd assembly there, 
Whose names are writ in heav'n ; 

And God, the judge of all, declares 
Their vilest sins forgiv'n. 

The saints on earth, and all the dead., 
But one communion make ; 

All join in Christ, their living head, 
And of his grace partake. 

In such society as this 
My weary soul would rest : 

The man that dwells where Jesus is, 
Must be forever blest." 



1"68 MEMOIRS Of SPEHeSR. 

" Preaching one morning at Hoxton, after he had 
prayed as usual at his entrance into the pulpit, I missed 
him ; he bent forward for a considerable time so low. 
that I could scarcely perceive him from the gallery. 
When I afterwards asked him if any tiling ailed him. 
said he, < When I went into the pulpit, and saw that 
crowded audience, recollecting that they were all look- 
ing to me for instruction, and remembering my own 
youth and inexperience, I was overwhelmed, and lean- 
ing forward, implored more earnestly the divine assist- 
ance." 

" While preaching at Jewin-street, he one afternoon 
took the two lower steps at once, in ascending the pul- 
pit stairs. — When we afterwards met, I asked, { Did 
you notice the manner of your going into the pulpit r* 

• I did, and thought that you would also — it was inad- 
vertent ; but it was wrong. It did not become the so- 
lemnity of the place. — I never remember such a circum- 
stance before, and will be more guarded in future." 
As a proof of the necessity of his watchfulness over the 
minutiae of his actions, I mention that an aged Chris- 
tian said to me some time afterwards, < I loved Spen- 
cer's sermons, but there was a lightness about him.' — 

* A lightness ! when, and where did he discover it F 
; At our meeting, in jumping up the pulpit stairs.' * Did 
you see it more than once ?' 6 No.' < Then I can tell 
you, that that once he felt and lamented it as deeply as 
you could 5 and I am sure that he never repeated it. 
Is not that satisfactory ?' ' It is." 

4; Spencer followed Cecil ; he united deep humility 
with true ministerial dignity : nor do I conceive it pes- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. l69 

sifele for a youth to be less affected by popularity than 
he was ; and as to flattery, if his flatterers had known 
the light in which he viewed them, they would have 
been silent. Coming from a vestry, where adulation 
had been offered — ' Don't fear for me,' said he, 6 on ac- 
count of what lias passed 5 it was too weak to hurt : my 
danger is when those, on whose judgment I depend, 
speak unguardedly !' At another time, after a young 
man had been very lavish in his praises, (who had sev- 
eral times been guilty of the same impropriety) I told 
him I thought the next time he addressed himself to me, 
I should give him a hint of it. ' no,' said he, ' treat 
it with the same contempt that I do. To mention it, 
would give too much importance to his judgment. I 
would not have him think that his judgment could do 
any harm/ 1 ' 

'• Spencer was particularly happy in his choice of 
texts for particular occasions ; ' I feel great difficulty,' 
said he, < in preaching at Hertford, where I have to ad- 
dress many who walked with God before I was born. 
To-morrow will be the first Sabbath that I have regular- 
ly supplied there. I have chosen for my subject, Ro- 
mans xvi. 7.' In which he shewed what it was to be in 
Christ ; and the duties which aged Christians owe to 
younger ones — faithful reproof and exhortation — pray- 
er for them, &c. For his sermon on regeneration, he 
chose James i. 18, which, as he said, comprised the 
ivhole subject ;— the efficient cause—' The will of God ;' 
the grand means used— 4 the word of truth;' the great 
end in view — that believers should be — '* First fruits of 
His creatures.' A gentleman, who possesses a fine 
1-5 



i*0 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

mind, said to me, < I have heard so much of Spencer, 
that when I went to hear him, I expected to be disap- 
pointed ; but I found the reverse to be the case. When 
lie gave out his text it was with an emphasis which so 
forcibly laid open the apostle's argument, that my at- 
tention was rivettcd, and I was perfectly astonished." 

" He loved to improve the festivals of the church, 
such as Christmas and Easter, 'because,' said he, 
' people expect then to hear upon the subject, and I 
think we ought to meet every appearance of prepara- 
tion of mind with suitable instruction. The passage 
of scripture which led my mind to the ministry, and 
which satisfies me as to the propriety of my engaging 
in it, is that promise of God to the Gentile church, 
Isaiah lxix. 21. — Oh ! that text is very precious to me $ 

while the death of Miss at Brighton, and Miss 

at , tends to convince me that I am right.' Those 

ladies died in the Lord, and were called under Spen- 
cer's ministry," 

" I used,' said he, ; to feel very much in preaching 
before certain characters. My difficulty is now re- 
moved oy considering, that, let them be as learned or 
as pious as they may, it is probable that they have not 
turned their attention to the individual point before me 
so closely as I have, and therefore it is likely that my 
sermon may afford some instruction even to them, and 
this thought gives me courage." 

" Mr. Spencer's simplicity in dress was well known. 
He avoided in that respect the very appearance of evil. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 171 

that his ministry might not be blamed. One Sabbath 
morning, when he called for me, he had a new coat on, 
Which I told him I thought was more fashionable than 
he would approve. 4 I did not know it,' said he, and 
on the next Sabbath morning, he asked me if I thought 
it more becoming then: he had had it altered." 

" I was desired by several medical gentlemen to in- 
form him, that unless he slackened his exertions, he 
couta not live to see five and twenty. When I men- 
tioned it, he said, < that it certainly must be attended 
to, for that his hope was to live a long and useful life.' 
lie therefore determined to alter the length of his ser- 
mons from an hour or sixty -five minutes to forty -five." 

" I am going,' said he, \ to preach at Vauxliall to-mor- 
row, where you may come with a very safe conscience. 
You need not be afraid of a large congregation there. 
You do net like large congregations for me 5 but don't 
you remember how much more encouragement and sat- 
isfaction the man has who fishes in a pond which is full 
offish, than he who fishes in a place where he knows 
there are but two or three." 

" Before S. left the academy, a gentleman, whose 
judgment, or piety, few are disposed to dispute, said 
to me, < If it were not for the sound of his voice, with 
my eyes shut I could suppose him a man of seventy. 
He is ripening fast for heaven — I can fancy him an an- 
gel, come down into the pulpit, soon to return." 

i; Another gentleman, possessed of undeniable criti- 
cal skill, and difficult to please, after he had heard him, 



i?£ .MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

£aid,< I stood the whole service — and I could have 
stood till midnight. I felt as under the influence ol 
a charm I could not resist, and was rivetted to the 
spot, intent only upon the fascinating object I saw be- 
fore me, 



5? 



•« It was with sincere pity that he saw any young 
minister descend from the holy dignity of his station, 
hy attention, as soon as the service was concluded, to 
the advances of females, who, had they really received 
the benefit they professed, would have shewn it in a 
very different way.* 



Mr. Spencer was appointed by the committee to 
spend the midsummer vacation in this year at Ne wing- 
ton chapel, Liverpool, then destitute of a pastor, by 
the death of the Rev. David Bruce. The report of his 
extraordinary talents and amazing popularity had al- 
ready from various quarters, reached that place. And 
the congregation amongst whom he was, for a few 
iveeke to labour, had some pleasing expectations, that 
they might find in him a future pastor, every way 
qualified for the important sphere of usefulness, which 
so large and populous a town presented. But on the 
mind of Mr. Spencer far other impressions had been 

* This is to Spencer's honour. Those who are accustomed to 
attend the vestries in London, after the sermons of popular 
preachers, will enter into the meaning of this observation. It 
would be well, if some whom it may concern would also take the 
hint it afford?. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. ITS 

unhappily produced. From whatever sources he had 
drawn his information of the state of religion and man- 
ners in this place, it was certainly most incorrect — 
and such as led him to anticipate his visit with feelings 
of considerable uneasiness and reluctance. Nor did 
he seem at all anxious to conceal the fact, that his com- 
ing was the consequence of a necessity, to which he 
was compelled to bow. So deep was his prejudice 
against Liverpool, that it seems to have caused the on- 
ly exception to that uniform submission with which he 
yielded to the arrangements made by his constituents 
for his labours. But on this occasion, he did not hes- 
itate frankly to assure a gentleman, who meeting him 
in London, expressed a hope, that they should soon have 
the pleasure of seeing him in Liverpool, that " it was 
not his wish to see Liverpool — and that although the 
committee had appointed him to go, he should do all in 
his power to prevail upon them to send some other stu- 
dent/' 

But a visit upon which so much depended, and whence 
such amazing consequences were to flow, could not be 
tbandoned by a superintending Providence, to the ob- 
stacles of his prejudices, or the influence of his feelings. 
His destination was fixed — It was the voice of duty, 
and he obeyed. He arrived in Liverpool on Saturday, 
the 30th of June, 1810, and commenced his public la- 
bours on the following Sabbath. 

Mr. Spencer selected for the subject of his first dis- 
course, Luke xxiv. 32, " And they said one to another, 
did not our hearts burn within us, ivhile he talked with 
us by the ivay, and while he opened to us the scrip- 
*15 



174 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



tures."* In the afternoon he preached from Heb. xii. 
24, " And to the blood of sprinkling which speaketh 
better things than the blood of Mel." And in the eve- 
ning from 1 Cor. xv. 25, " For he must reign till he 
hath put all enemies under his feet" 

The impression produced by the labours of this Sab- 
bath will be long remembered. The emotion then 
awakened has not subsided to this day. Every sermon 
that he preached tended to deepen the conviction of 
his piety and talents — and to endear him to the peo- 
ple. His lively, affectionate manner, and the simple 
but elegant style of his discourses, captivated all who 
heard him. Every sermon produced accessions to the 
congregation of such as, drawn by the report of his ex- 
traordinary powers, pressed to witness their display. 
The chapel soon became crowded to excess — and not 
alone the thoughtless and the gay, whom the charms of 
a persuasive eloquence and an engaging manner might 
attract* but pious and experienced Christians sat at 
his feet with deep attention and delight. There seem- 
ed to be indeed a shaking amongst the dry bones. A 
divine unction evidently attended his ministry, and 
such were the effects produced, that every beholder, 
with astonishment and admiration, cried ' what hath 
God wrought !' 

In his own views of Liverpool, too, a great change 
was wrought by the remarkable circumstances attend- 
ant on his ministry. The kind assiduities of the fam- 
ily under whose hospitable roof he resided, and an in- 
tercourse with the pious part of the congregation, which 

* See Appendix, No, Ilf 



I 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 175 

they carefully promoted, tended gradually to weaken 
his prejudices, and at length completely to turn the 
bias, and reverse the purpose of his mind. The period 
of his stay was limited to five Sabbaths ; but at the 
earnest solicitation of the people, he consented, after 
communicating with his friends in London, to add 
another to the number. And in the afternoon of the 
last Sabbath, he preached from Deut. xxxiii. 3, * Yea, 
he loved the people,' in such a style of endearment and 
affection, as seemed to warrant the indulgence of their 
warmest hopes. The last week of his visit was spent 
in the most delightful intercourse with Christian 
friends ; and on Tuesday, the 7th of August, he left 
Liverpool with reluctance and tears. 

The following extracts are from his correspondence 
while jit Liverpool. 

No. 27. 
TO MR. HADDON. 

Liverpool, July 3d, 1810-. 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

***** 

" I had a most uncomfortable journey. The 
distance was so great, the company so disagreeable, 
and I so low spirited, that I can truly say, I never 
travelled in such misery before. When I arrived at 
Manchester, there was no one to meet me at the 
coach. No one expected me. After a great deal of 



176 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



trouble I found out Mr. Smith's house, and I shall al- 
ways feel indebted to him for the kindness with which 
he received me, though unexpected, and for the hos- 
pitality with which he entertained me till Saturday 
morning, when I left Manchester for Liverpool. And 
say you, what are your sentiments about that ? — I 
freely tell you then, that I think it is an excellent 
town, &c. &c. ; but I had rather any one should be 
here supplying than myself, and I long for the time 
when I shall leave for Hoxton. 



* * * * * 



4t Depend upon it, if possible, I will set off for Lon- 
don on Monday, July 30th ; I wish it were to-morrow 
— but perhaps I do wrong in complaining. May you 
enjoy the presence of Him who has shut me up from 
the society of my beloved companions for a time, 
perhaps that I might seek more earnestly after hi-? 
own. 

* I remain, 

c< Yours affectionately, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 



No. 28.. 
TO MR. H ADDON. 

Liverpool, July 17, 1810. 

ft MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I suppose you have been looking for a let- 
ter for a day or two past from your friend at Liver- 
pool., so here it is come at last. I did not preaeh at 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. \77 

Manchester, for notice had been given the Sabbath 
before that there would be no preaching there the next 

Wednesday evening — nor have I been to . I saw 

no one from his house when I was at Manchester, nor 
have I heard any thing from him since ; most likely I 
shall not see him at all. In fact I have quite visiting- 
enough among the people of the congregation. 

***** 

" Here are some excellent people, very pious, and 
zealous for the honour of God, and the good of immor- 
tal souls, in this town. With some of them I shall be 
almost sorry to part. 

" Last Sunday evening I preached the sermon for 
Hoxton ; we collected about 40l. The place I preach 
in is called JVewington Chapel. I forget the name 
of the street it stands in. There are many more 
dissenting places of worship here than you seem 
aware of. I am not yet certain whether I stay six 
Sabbaths. 

" Mr. has written me a long and pressing let- 
ter for me to go to Plymouth Dock, which he says is 
just the thing for me — he wishes me to settle there — 
gives an exceeding high character of the place. Ac- 
cording to his request I must write to him soon, but I 
scarce know in what manner. It is a large congrega- 
tion, and he says, that there is there ' a huge army of 
the soldiers of the cross.' 

« I will take care to get you a plan of the town. I 
hear that a fire has consumed Huntingdon's chapel 
in Tichfield-street — is it true ? Dr. W. has written 



178 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



to me requesting me to supply New Court the first 
Sabbath in August. 

'* The Wednesday after I wrote to you, I preached 
on Psalm lxi. 2. Following Sabbath — morning, Colos. 
Hi. 3 : afternoon, John x. 9 : evening, Job xxxvi. 18. 
The next Wednesday evening, Gal. iv. 7. Last Sab- 
bath morning, Zech. vi. 13 : afternoon, the same con- 
cluded : evening, Zech. iii. 7. Monday evening, at 
the prayer meetings, I either go over the outline of 
one of the sermons preached the day before, or else 
give a short exhortation, as at Hoxton. 

" I suppose you know that I have written to D. 

C but not "to Mr. B . For the fact is, I had 

rather not. I do not know how, and I do not see 
that it would do any good, so must decline it. I am 
out almost every day. Oh why should people be afraid 
to let me be alone ; why will they not let me enjoy 
my much -loved solitude ! On several accounts I feel 
anxious to get home ; and can now indeed say, < Hox- 
ton, with all try faults, I love thee still.' 

" Present my respects to all our friends in town. 
Give me as much intelligence as you can in your next, 
and believe me still 

" Your sincere friend, 

"THOMAS SPENCER.- 



Very soon after his return to Hoxton, Mr. Spencer 
received from the church and congregation at Newing- 
ton chapel, an unanimous and pressing invitation to 
accept the pastoral office over them. The call was 
dated on the 8th of August, 1810. After near seven 
weeks deliberation, Mr. Spencer returned an answer 



MEMOIRS Off SPEN0ER. 1?9 

in. the affirmative. In what exercises of mind these 
seven weeks were spent, those who knew the peculiar 
circumstances of his situation can well conceive. On 
the one hand, — the unanimous request of a people to 
whom God had directed him contrary to his wish, and 
to whom he had become singularly endeared :>— the 
imperious call of duty to a sphere of action for which 
his talents seemed every way adapted, in which his 
labours had been already remarkably successful, and 
which promised most extensive usefulness. These 
were circumstances of no common magnitude. But on 
the other hand, there were many powerful ties to bind 
him to the neighbourhood of the metropolis. His fam- 
ily — his best friendships — his most endeared connex- 
ions — 'the scenes of his early and honourable labours 
— all conspired in the prospect of his removal to so 
great a distance, to awaken the most painful and dis- 
tressing feelings in his mind. — And resolutely to re- 
sist the importunities of friends, the value of whose 
society we fully know — to rise superior to those local 
attachments which long and happy intercourse cannot 
fail to form — and to leave the circle to which time and 
frequent interchange of sentiment have rendered us 
familiar and endeared, for a land of strangers-~involve 
a sacrifice which only the voice of duty can demand, 
or the hope of usefulness repay. Yet such are the 
sacrifices which the Christian minister must frequent- 
ly be called to make ; and whilst on his part they are 
with cheerfulness surrendered to the call of duty, and 
the cause of Christ, let those in whose particular be- 
half they are claimed, seek by every affectionate office 
of friendship, to blunt the edge of separation, and re- 






180 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

lieve as much as may be by kindness, the memory of 
distant friendships and endeared connexions. 

I insert a copy of Mr. Spencer's answer to the call 
which he received from the church and congregation 
at Newington ; as it will afford to the reader an addi- 
tional opportunity of obtaining an acquaintance with 
its amiable author. 

No. 29. 

v Fo the Independent Church of Christ, assembling in 
Newington ChapeU Liverpool. 

a MY CHRISTIAN FRIENDS, 

<; Being unwilling to keep you any longer in suspence 
than is absolutely necessary, upon the important subject 
of my settlement with a church and congregation, I feel 
it my duty to reply to your obliging and respectful invi- 
tation. You are well aware, that I came amongst you 
influenced by the strongest prejudices against the 
place, and resolutely determined never to think of it as 
a sphere calculated for me. Whilst I was amongst 
you, however, several circumstances united to remove 
the strength of my prejudices, and I trust to make me 
determined by every appointed and lawful means to 
ascertain the will of God, and when ascertained, cheer- 
Jully to fulfil it, however opposed it might be to my pri- 
vate wishes and inclinations. A review of the partial 
degree of success with winch my labours in Liverpool 
were honoured, does aiford me considerable pleasure, 
and I must say, that I speak the real sentiments of my 
heart when I confess, that the manner in which you. 



MEMOIRS Oi? SPi£X«lilt. 181 

my respected friends and brethren in the gospel, have 
tyjnducted this important affair, has raised you exceed- 
ingly in my esteem, and given me to believe, that a 
preacher would find among you as a people, those mo- 
tives to diligence and those sources of real happiness 
in the prosecution of his work, which, alas ! are denied 
to many a faithful minister of the New Testament. 

" When I regard you as a church and congregation- 
I feel anxiously concerned for your spiritual and eter- 
nal welfare, and indeed earnestly desire, if consistent 
with the good pleasure of His will, the great Head of the 
Church would make use of me to build you up in faith 
and holiness ; but my motives for thinking favourably 
of your invitation arise also from other sources. I 
look at the state of thousands of inhabitants in that 
vast town, to many of whom I hope to be the instrument 
of conveying the i joyful sound ;' my soul longs that 
they may receive the salvation which is in Jesus Christ, 
with eternal glory, and influenced I have reason to be- 
lieve by the direction of my God, I resolve to preach 
among them the unsearchable riches of Christ. 

u I assure you, my fellow travellers to Zion, I can 
observe, with admiration, peculiarities in this dispens- 
ation whicli never before struck me in reference to any 
other situation. Oh may it appear, that this work and 
this counsel is of God 1 

" Some difficulties must be met, and some sacrifices 
must be made, by me, when I leave the scenes of my 
former exertions in the cause of Christ, for the sake of 
the people at Newington. But these are things which 
i must ever expect ; these are circumstances which I 
16 



I 



I&2 MEMOIRS OF SPEKCER. 

resolved should never move me, when! first gave ltiv 
self to God and His Christ! 

" Truly believing then that I am acting under the 
direction of an all wise Jehovah, and humbly asking 
that this may be made manifest in after days, I accept 
the invitation you have given me to exercise over you 
the pastoral office. — I comply with your unanimous 
request, and shall from this day consider myself as 
solemnly bound to you, if you see it right to allow me 
the following requisitions : — 

" That I preach among you regularly but twice on the 
Sabbath, viz. morning and evening. I mention this, 
because I know that my constitution will not admit of 
three services in the day, and I am sure it is not con- 
sistent with your wishes, that I should prevent myself 
from future exertions by presuming on too much at 
first ; and the plan I propose will I am persuaded after 
trial prove beneficial rather than injurious to the cause 
at Newington. To preaching to you twice on the Sab- 
bath and once in the week, I shall never feel the least 
objection. My other wish is— - 

" That I may have in the spring of the year six weeks 
annually to myself, to visit my friends, and occasion- 
ally see other parts of the Lord's vineyard. 

" I do not leave Hoxton academy till after Christmas, 
and perhaps may not be with you so early as you wish. — 
It is my intention, however, to commence my labours 
among you, if convenient to yourselves, on the first 
Sabbath in February, 1811. Your sentiments on the 
subjects I have mentioned, you will be pleased to com- 
municate to me as early as possible. 

" And now just allow me, my respected friends, to 



MEMOIRS QF SPENCER. 18*3 

request you not to form too sanguine expectations in 
reference to the pleasure you expect to enjoy when I 
become your pastor. You wilt doubtless find in me 
much to pity and to blame ; yet it is my earnest 
prayer that you may never have to charge me with 
neglect in watching over you in the Lord ; finally, I 
request your supplications for me at the throne of the 
heavenly Majesty, that a door of utterance may be 
opened unto me, that on me the communications of di- 
vine grace may ever be bestowed, that Christ may be 
magnified, by my preaching and my life, that I may 
he preserved faithful unto death, and then receive a 
crown of life. 

i; Accept my cordial wishes for the prosperity of 
your own souls, of your families, but especially of your 
Christian society and of the cause of Zion amongst you. 
Cease not to pray solemnly, fervently, and without 
intermission, for me, and believe me your's in our glo- 
rious Lord, 

« THOMAS SPENCER.*' 

Ho.vton, Sept. 26, 1810. 

This official communication to the church was ac- 
companied by a private letter to the friend, under 
whose roof he had resided during his occasional visit, 
and to whose care the preceding document was ad- 
dressed. 



1-8.4 MEMOIRS OF SPENjCER* 

No. 30. 

Hooeton College, Sept. 19, 

'" MY DEAR SIR, 

" If you wish immediately to know the purport oi 
my enclosed answer to the respectful and pressing in- 
vitation I have received from Newington, turn to the 
22d verse of the Epistle to Philemon. 

" I hope you will forgive me for the long, the doubt- 
fill suspence, in which I have been obliged to detain 
you ; in my own view I have acted rightly, and I have 
no doubt but you will say that it was all proper, when 
vou come to hear my statement. It is astonishing 
what I have had to meet with through the kindness of 
my London friends — kindness you will think improp- 
erly manifested, when I tell you, that they, with very 
few exceptions, entreat, beg, and request, that I would 
not settle at Liverpool. I can only tell them, that in 
■his affair, 

f I heai* a voice they cannot hear $ 
4 1 see a hand they cannot see /' 

And have the leadings of Providence lost their impor- 
tance ? or the direction of Heaven become merely 
matter of idle talk ? I have not written individually to 
any person in Liverpool besides yourself : I should 
have found a difficulty in speaking of the business 
before I had made known my determination. By the 
first Sabbath in February next year, I shall (God wil- 
ling) be again in Liverpool, when I hope the presence 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 185' 

of my covenant God will accompany me, and his Spir- 
it grant me wide success. The prospect of leaving my 
friends and connexions for so distant a place as Liv- 
erpool, and especially as many of them oppose the 
plan, sometimes fill me with melancholy gloom ; but 
' thy will be done' is a petition that well becomes me 
in my situation ; may I have grace given me to use it 
with a sincere and believing heart. 
***** 
" I trust it will appear, that the general good of the 
church of Christ, and of the inhabitants of Liverpool, is 
the object to which I have directed my warm and un- 
remitting exertions. Farewell. 

" I remain sincerely your's 

* THOMAS SPENCER.' 7 

To this may be added an extract from a letter, dated 
September 1st, 1810. 

" My mind still inclines to Liverpool, and that for 
ihe most substantial reasons. If I accept this invita- 
tion, I shall be obliged to make some sacrifices ; but 
ought I not to make them cheerfully, when the hon- 
our of God, and the happiness of immortal souls require 
them ? especially as I am bound not to count even my 
life dear unto me, so that I may finish my course with 
joy. The sacrifices to which I allude are chiefly, per- 
haps altogether, occasioned by absence from my friends 
and connexions, and a removal from those interesting 
scenes of exertion which have witnessed my first efforts 
to disseminate divine truth, and in which I haie beeS 
favoured with some success." 
»16 



186 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



Thus happily was a point of so much importance to 
the interests of religion in Liverpool determined. A 
consideration of the issue of this affair, together with 
many others perpetually occurring, should teach us 
to suspend our judgments of persons and places we 
have never seen — and should tend to weaken those 
unjust and injurious prejudices against them which we 
too hastily form — too tenaciously cherish. Often we- 
picture to ourselves the most enchanting scenes, the 
most delightful associations, in connexion with a spot 
we are about to visit, and are disappointed— -and as 
often we find those charming scenes, and happy asso- 
ciations, in regions which our prejudices had invested 
with every thing gloomy and repulsive. Had Spencer 
yielded to the impulse of his feelings, he had never 
become pastor of a church in Liverpool. And although 
the memory of his lamented fate may induce, from 
feelings generally regarded as honourable to humanity, 
a wish that he had not- — yet the Christian sees in this 
the hand of God- — and, contemplating the mighty work 
which in his short ministry he was honoured to per- 
form, rejoices that, however misterious the decree, it 
was ordered so. It is not for us to calculate whether 
he would have been more useful, or less useful, or as 
useful elsewhere—he was eminently ueful in Liverpool 
* — and though all must weep that he should be so soon, 
so suddenly removed—yet none who witness the extra- 
ordinary impression which his labours produced in so 
large and populous a town, but must rejoice in their 
success, and adore the Providence which brought him 
*here. 

Nor was it from the want of other calls that Mr. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCEIlv 187' 

Spencer was induced to accept that which he received 
from Liverpool. Many were the churches which desi- 
red to enjoy his valuable ministry : amongst others, 
the following places may be named — Kidderminster, 
Kentish Town, Je win-street, Worthing, Southampton, 
and Tonbridge Chapel. 

This last-mentioned chapel is a recently erected 
building, in the New-Road leading from Pentonville to 
Paddington, near London— in a populous, respectable, 
and increasing neighbourhood. During its erection, 
an impression was encouraged, both on Mr. Spencer's 
mind and that of the surrounding inhabitants, that he 
would probably be the preacher. The idea was not 
at all unpleasant to him. In most respects the arrange- 
ment met his wishes ; and he had even laid the plan 
on which he resolved to act, provided his expectations 
had been realized. He purposed to reside a few miles 
out of town, to prevent the dissipation of his time, and 
to come to London on certain days to visit his peo- 
ple. He expected much gratification from the neigh- 
bourhood of his friend and fellow-student, the Rev. S. 
Haslock, minister of Kentish Town chapel, with whom 
he hoped to unite in plans of usefulness for their vicin- 
ity. But circumstances did not conspire to call into 
exercise those judicious and benevolent designs. 

The chapel was opened early in November, 1810; 
and on Sunday, the 18th, he preached his first sermon 
there. It was in allusion to its recent opening, founded 
on Heb. x. 19 — 22. After the congregation was dis- 
missed, he went over the whole building, the plan of 
which pleased him much. He was particularly de- 
lighted with the deep front gallery, which by exhibit- 



188 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

frig a multitude of attentive faces, encouraged him, he 
said, in his preaching. In that chapel he frequently 
addressed large and deeply interested auditories — and 
in that pulpit a public tribute of respect was paid to 
his memory in a funeral sermon, delivered by the Rev. 
Richard Slate, minister of Stand, near Manchester.* 

From the period of his acceptance of the call to Liv- 
erpool, till February, 1811, when he actually entered 
on the pastoral office there, his time was "wholly occu- 
pied in the diligent pursuit of his studies, and the 
labours of the pulpit. Not a Sabbath passed, but wit- 
nessed twice or thrice his faithful publication of the 
gospel of peace. On Sunday, the 26th of August, he 
revisited Dorking — a spot endeared to him by the beau- 
ty of its scenery — but more by the memory of those 
happy hours, which introduced him to the knowledge 
and esteem of a most beloved and valued friend. 

The first Sabbath in November he spent at Brighton, 
where he preached ihree times in the pulpit of the Rev. 
Mr. Styles. 

Returning to town he continued preaching in and 
about London till the close of the year, when he again 
visited Brighton, at which place he entered on the year 
1S11— the last of his life. 

In what way his mind was exercised during this 

* Mr. Slate was formerly a fellow-student with Mr. Spencer^ 
He was supplying- the pulpit at Tonbriclge chapel in the autumn 
of 1811, the period of Mr. Spencers death. His discourse is 
founded on John v. 35, * He -was a burning and a sinning light.* 
It was afterwards published — and has reached a second edition, 
The sentiments It breathes are honourable to the author's char- 
acter as a man, « christian, and afrieiid. 



MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 189 

period — and how his principles as a Christian tri- 
umphed over his feelings as a man in the prospect of 
a long and painful separation from those he loved 
— may be seen by the following letter to a friend in 
.Liverpool :— • 

No. 51. 

Hoxion, December 5th, 1810. 

*• MY DEAR SIR, 

" I am persuaded that you will excuse my 
neglecting to write to you so long, when you recollect 
that the hope I daily entertained of seeing you in town 
appeared to represent my troubling you with an epis- 
tle as unnecessary. I am extremely pleased to hear 
of the increase and welfare of your family ; I cannot 
but feel an interest in their prosperity and happiness : 
may the Lord pour his Spirit upon your seed, and his 
blessing upon your offspring, that they may spring up 
as among the grass, as willows by the water courses ! 
I suppose I need not inform you, that I anticipate my 
journey to Liverpool with mingled emotions of mind. 
The idea of a long and painful separation from my con- 
nexions does certainly at times overwhelm me with 
melancholy gloom 5 I have not yet learned to conquer 
my feelings, nor am I particularly eminent for philo- 
sophic heroism. The idea that I am going where divine 
Providence has directed me, does occasionally impart 
to me strong consolation ; may my wishes as to exten- 
sive usefulness among you be answered ; may they be 
exceeded in the prosperity of the church and congrega- 
tion, and in the increase of spirituality and holy en 
joyment in my own soul ! 



£90 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

•' I am glad jou are successful in getting acceptably 
supplies ; this is a point which should be attended to. 
I should like the congregation to haye the best of 
preachers. My books, &c. 1 must send from Londma 
before Christmas day? that I may have no trouble with 
them after my return from Brighton. 

" I am extremely happy in the prospect of being with 
your family on my first entrance into Liverpool ; it 
will be far superior to my being with strangers. This 
half year has been a trying one as to preaching en- 
gagements, both on Sabbaths, and on week-days. 1 con- 
tinue supplying Hoxton, and the New Chapel, Somers 
Town, till Christmas : the day after Christmas day I 
hope to go to Brighton, to stay there three Sabbaths, 
and to return on the 17th of January, to supply Roy- 
don, and Hertford the next week : and the last Sab- 
bath in January, to take my leave of this part of the 
kingdom by two sermons at Hoxton. 
***** 

" Tell our friends at Newington chapel that I am 
tolerably well, and wish to be kindly remembered to 
them. Farewell my valued friend. 
« I am sincerely your's, 

A THOMAS SPENCER." 

The purposes expressed in this letter were accom- 
plished according to the order in which they are stated. 
He visited Brighton, and preached on the last Sabbath 
of the old year three times, at Mr. Styles' chapel — in 
the evening a sermon adapted to the season, from 1 
John ii. 17, ' And the world passeth aivay, and the lust 
thereof ; but he that doeth the will of God abideth for- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 194 

tterP On the evening of the 1st of January, 1811, 
he preached an appropriate discourse at the Countess 
of Huntingdon's chapel ; and on the following Thursday, 
and three times on the Sunday, he preached at Mr. 
Styles'. On the Monday evening, being the first Mon- 
day in the month, the missionary prayer meeting was 
held in Brighton, when he delivered a most animated 
and impressive address from Mat. xiii. 16 — 17, 6 Bles- 
sed are your eyes for they see, and your ears for they 
hear ; for verily I say unto you, that many prophets 
and righteous men have desired to see those things 
which ye see, and have not seen them ; and to hear those 
things which ye hear, and have not heard them? He 
continued another Sabbath in Brighton, and left that 
place some time in the following week. Passing 
through London, he went into Hertfordshire. On 
Sunday, January the £0th, he preached at Roydon, 
morning and afternoon, and at Hoddesdon in the eve- 
ning. On the Tuesday evening he preached at Hert- 
ford, and slept again under his paternal roof. On 
Wednesday evening he preached at Stansted, and on 
Thursday evening again at Hertford. This was, I 
believe, his last visit to his native town, and to his 
father's house ! The separation which then again took 
place between himself and his beloved family was final. 
The farewell which he bade to the scenes of his infan- 
cy and childhood was eternal ! I cannot suppress the 
melancholy feeling which this reflection has awakened 
in my mind. I am arrived at length upon the eve of 
a mournful detail, which all along I have anticipated 
with emotions of distress. Alas ! that one so useful 
should be so soon removed ! And that ere we enter 



192 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

on the solemn engagements of his pastoral life, we 
should be compelled to notice circumstances so close- 
ly connected with his death ! 

The following Sabbath, January 27th, was the last 
he spent in London. On that day he preached in the 
morning at Hoxton chapel, from Phil. iii. 8, ' Yea, 
doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the excel- 
lency of the Tcnoivledge of Christ Jesus my Lord.'' And 
in the evening at Tonbridge chapel, from 2 Cor. iv. 3, 
< But if our gospel be hid, it is hid to them that are 
lost.' The labours of this Sabbath completed his en- 
gagements at Hoxton and Tonbridge chapels ; but on 
the evening of the following day (Monday) he took an 
affectionate leave of his beloved friends— -the constit- 
uents — the tutors — the students— and the congrega- 
tion at Hoxton, from the pulpit of that chapel. The 
crowd that pressed to hear his last sermon (for so it 
proved) in London was immense. One common sen- 
timent of attachment and grief seemed to pervade the 
assembly. A friend charged him on that occasion not 
to play upon the passions. Not that he was in the 
habit of doing this ; but there appeared on this occa- 
sion a probability that he might. To that suggestion 
he replied — that " neither his feelings nor his con- 
science would admit of such trifling." He addressed 
the people on this interesting occasion from those me- 
morable words of Paul — Acts xx. 24, 6 But none of 
these things move me, neither count I my life dear un- 
to me, so that I may finish my course with joy, and the 
ministry ivhich I have received of the Lord Jesus.'* 

* See Appendix, No. IV. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCEll. 193 

Thus were Spencer's labours in the metropolis closed 
forever — labours — the renewal of which thousands an- 
ticipated with delight. But he was ripening last for 
glory — and rapidly advancing to the termination of 
his course. Yea, the impression of his excellence — 
the feeling of regret at his departure — wag yet strong 
and lively in the hearts of many, when the tidings of 
his death shed a deeper sorrow through the scenes 
and circles which he had edified by his public instruc- 
tions, or enlivened by his private friendship ! 

It was on the 28th of January, that Mr. Spencer 
preached his farewell sermon at Hoxton chapel—and 
it was on the 15th of August, in the same year, in the 
same pulpit — and to nearly the same congregation-— 
that his funeral sermon was delivered by the Rev. 
Henry Forster Burder, one of the tutors of the acad- 
emy. In that discourse, a just and elegant tribute was 
paid to the mingled piety and talent which formed the 
charm of his ministry. From the known endowments 
of the preacher, and from the opportunities which he 
enjoyed of obtaining a correct estimate of Mr. Spen- 
cer's powers, that tribute must derive considerable pro- 
priety and force : and as it chiefly regards his ministe- 
rial labours in London, I shall close these imperfect 
memoirs of them with an extract from it. 

" During the last two years of our valuable friend's 
residence at Hoxton, he was very frequently engaged 
in preaching in London and its vicinity. As this chap- 
el has been, on many occasions, the scene of his labours, 
and has Seen often thronged with the multitudes at- 
tracted by his abilities and piety, I need scarcely at- 
17 



194 



MEMOIRS OE SPENCER. 



tempt an estimate of his pulpit talents. That they 
were eminent — that they were brilliant — that they 
were captivating — will not, I think, be denied by any 
who witnessed their exhibition. He undoubtedly dis- 
played no small degree of pulpit eloquence, and his 
eloquence was distinguished by characteristic features. 
It was not the kind of eloquence in which a youth of 
genius might be expected most to excel, and of which 
luxuriance of imagination constitutes the chief attrac- 
tion 5 it was not a peculiar vivacity of fancy, which 
gave life to his addresses, although in this respect they 
were not deficient ; but they rather owed their effect to 
the energy and animation infused by the ardour of his 
soul, and to the unaffected fervour of his religious feel- 
ings, the impression of which was aided by no small ad 
vantages of person, voice, and elocution. In endeavour- 
ing rightly to appreciate his qualifications for the duties 
of the Christian ministry, I must not omit to notice the 
truly edifying manner in which he conducted the devo- 
tional exercises of the pulpit. His gift in prayer was 
peculiarly excellent. The language of his petitions 
seemed to breathe the ardent aspirations of a heart alive 
to God, and accustomed to enjoy fellowship with the 
Father, and with his Son Jesus Christ."* 

That he was maturing fast for the enjoyment of his 
reward, even when he left London to commence his 
pastoral engagements, is a conviction indelibly impress- 
ed upon the minds of those who were accustomed to 



* See a Sermon, delivered in Hoxton chapel, on the death of die 
Rev. T. Spencer, by the Rev. Henry Forster Burder, M. A. one 
of the tutors of the Hoxton Academy— page 32- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 195 

attend his preaching, or mingle in his society. They 
remember certain expressions, both of countenance 
and language, which seemed to indicate a tone of piety 
— a spirituality of feeling — too exalted for a long con- 
tinuance here. And it is to be regretted, that such ex- 
pressions, at the time so powerful in their influence, 
and so carefully preserved by a tenacious memory, no 
pen — no pencil can portray. Hence the sermons of 
animated and extemporary preachers, when introduced 
to us from the press, lose half their force and beauty. 
The scope of the discourse — the process of the argu- 
ment — may be indeed preserved ; but the unpremedita- 
ted, momentary flashes of holy fervour, and of brilliant 
genius, cannot. The eloquence of the eye — the ex- 
pression of the countenance — the meaning which is 
sometimes thrown into every limb and muscle of the 
frame — are wanting. — And though 'tis pleasing to pos- 
sess a memorial of those, whom living we revered and 
loved, jet the imperfection of the copy only deepens 
our regret at the loss of the original. In the preaching 
of Spencer, it seemed as though he saw before him 
every object he described-— and felt the full force — the 
vast importance of every subject upon which he spoke. 

Preaching one evening at Back-street, Horslev 
Down, and speaking of the reward of the faithful 
gospel minister, " Methinks," said he, " I already hear 
the melodious accents of the Saviour's voice, saying 
; Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy 
of thy Lord." It was remarked, that he appeared as 
though he heard a voice personally addressing him. 
His anticipation was in a very few months realized J 

Anxious for the usefulness and variety of his minis- 



196 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER-. 

try, he begged of his friend, upon his leaving London, 
to send him any useful pamphlets or works which might 
come out : " Let me know," said he, " when popular 
ministers are in town — th.^ texts they take for particu- 
lar occasions — festivals, &c. the settling or removal of 
my fellow students," &c. 

The last time he was with his friend alone, prior to 
jus setting off for Liverpool, their approaching separa- 
tion was, as may be well imagined, the topic of dis- 
course — when, with his own peculiar affection and eti^ 
orgy, he said — 

"" Through Christ when we together came, 

In singleness of heart, 
We met, O Jesus ! in thy name : 

And in thy name we part. 

We part in body, not in mnd % 

Our minds continue one „• 
And each to each, in Jesus join'd;. 

We happily go on. 

Present in spirit still we are, 

And intimately nigh ; 
While on the wings of faith and prayer. 

We Abba ! Father ! cry. 

Q may thy Spirit, dearest Lord, 

In all our travels still 
Direct and be our constant guard 

To Zion's holy hill. 

9 h ! what a joyful meeting there, 

Beyond these changing shades ; 
White are the robes we then shall wear, 

Acd crowns upon our lead's. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 197 

ftaste, Lord, and bring us to the day 

When we shall dwell at home, 
Come, O Redeemer, come away ; 

O Jesus quickly come." 

On Sunday, 3d of February, 1811, Mr. Spencer 
commenced his stated, pastoral labours at Newington 
chapel, Liverpool. He was then just twenty years of 
age — possessed of every endowment that could render 
him eminent as a minister — and every amiable dispo- 
sition that could endear him as a friend. The people 
of his charge, together with numbers who participated 
with them in their joy, hailed his entrance on his sa- 
cred duties with delight. From him they fondly anti- 
cipated a long series of varied and useful instructions 
— on him thev gazed with admiration, as affording 
them no mean example of a holy and devoted life— 
and to him they looked with pleasure as their chil- 
dren's friend. That he was prepared to meet these 
high expectations, none who have contemplated the su- 
perior endowments of his mind can, for a moment, 
doubt — his literary attainments, though not splendid, 
were respectable — his theological knowledge was con- 
siderable — his acquaintance with mankind indeed was 
scanty ; he had only moved amongst the excellent of 
the earth ; but this, while it might expose him to cer- 
tain inconveniences, gave him this advantage — that he 
appeared in all the native ingenuousness of unsuspect- 
ing youth. His love of study was great, which insu- 
red a constant supply of interesting materials for his 
public ministry— whilst he possessed a facility, an 
ease, an elegance, in the communication of his thoughts, 
displayed by few. To all these, he added the graces 
*\7 



198 



MEMOIRS OE SPE*JC£Rv 



of the Spirit in no common degree — the glorious attri- 
butes of a soul eminently devoted to God—a solemn 
awe of his sacred office — an habitual reference to the 
final account he should be called to render — and an 
ardent zeal for tiie Redeemer's glory !— Such was 
Spencer when he entered on the duties of his stated 
ministry ! 

But I shall justify this sketch of his character by 
some extracts from his letters. 

In one dated Brighton, January the 9th, 1811, he 
says — 

" I dread the termination of the happiness I now 
enjoy. It will be the commencement of a long and 
agonizing separation. Oh ! that henceforth I may live 
more devotedly to God than I have ever yet done. I 
ean truly say this is my desire ; for to be a preacher of 
the gospel, and not to feel its due abiding influence 
on the heart, is awful indeed. Since I have been here 
I have trembled for myself, when I have recollected 
the numerous follies of the four years I have spent at 
Hoxton. The Lord pardon me, and teach me to be 
more holy. Pray for me. Affectionately your's, " 



Mr. Spencer is certainly a striking example of what 
some persons are unwilling to admit — the possibility of 
a close and humble walk with God, even amid the 
snares and temptations of an academy. That in colle- 
ges, even the best regulated, temptations to levity ex- 
ist, cannot be denied. Where many young men, of a 
lively turn of mind, are associated, it must be so. But 
although such a spirit may be partially, and at inter- 
vals encouraged — yet where there is true piety, the- 



MEMOIRS ©F SPENCER. 199 

mind will be elevated above their habitual influence, 
and occasional instances of failure will excite to dili- 
gence for the future, whilst they awaken deep regret 
and poignant sorrow for the past. If to this there was 
a natural tendency in Spencer's constitution, how 
sweetly is the influence of better principles displayed 
in the humility with which he confesses and deplores 
his error. If upon this page the eye of a cold, phleg- 
matic, stern professor should dwell, let it not be avert- 
ed in disgust, when it beholds this amiable youth's 
confession of an error, of a temptation to which he is 
incapable — and to others, if such there be, who happy 
to discover in such a character, any thing like the 
shadow of a fault, should be preparing to pronounce a 
censorious and malignant judgment, I would say — < Let 
him that is without sin cast the first stone? 

The following letter was written the day after his 
arrival in Liverpool,. 



No. 32. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

Liverpool, February 2d, 1811?. 

• 4 MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I am safely arrived at the scene of my fu- 
ture labours. My journey, though long, was far less 
irksome than any one I have before undertaken. The 
roads were bad ; this made us late in our arrival at- 
Liverpool. We did not reach it till a quarter before 
twelve last night. The short time that I have yet 



200 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

spent here has been quite pleasant — it has been happy. 
The serious people of the congregation have already 
paid me many kind and Christian attentions. With 
the blessing of the Master whom I serve, I expect to- 
morrow to spend a very delightful Sabbath. My best 
feelings for the glory of our Lord, and the increase of 
his kingdom, will I hope be more strongly excited than 
ever they have yet been. I cannot but think that the 
HeacTof the Church has some great work to accom- 
plish in Liverpool, and the desire of my heart is that 
I may be the instrument employed to effect it. Oh ! 
for a large measure of the influence of the blessed Spirit 
to render me ardently pious, and to keep me zealous 
in my endeavours to do good to souls. I know here 
are numbers who pray earnestly for me, and whilst 
these pious people besiege the throne of grace on my 
behalf, I will not fear that my God will desert me. — 
To be holy and to be useful at this moment, appears to 
be the first wish of my heart. Do you say, ' indul- 
gent God let it be accomplished !' 

" I am tired with my journey and pressed for 
time. Believe me in the bonds of Christian affection, 
" Sincerely your's, 

" THOMAS SPENCER,? 

According to his anticipation, he did enjoy on the 
Sabbath a happy day, although in the morning he was 
considerably agitated by the peculiarly solemn circum- 
stances of his new and most responsible situation. In, 
the morning his text was admirably adapted to the oc- 
casion, — Gen. xxviii. £2 — < And Jacob vowed a vow* 
saying, if God will be ivith me^ and keep me in this way 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 201 

that I go, and will give me bread to eat and raiment to 
put on, so that I come again to my father's house in 
peace : then shall the Lord be my God, and this stone 
which I have set up for a pillar, shall be God's house, 
and of all that thou skalt give me I will surely give the 
tenth unto thee,' In the evening he preached from 1 
Cor. xv. 49, — * Mid as we have borne the image cf the 
earthly, we shall also bear the image of the heavenly.' 
In the course of the ensuing week, he wrote as fol- 
lows i 



No. 33. 

Liverpool, Feb. 7, 1811. 

« Oh ! what a memorable day to me was the 
first Sabbath I spent in this place ; every circumstance 
that took place appeared worthy of attention and big 
with events ; never before had I entered a pulpit, with 
those awful, solemn feelings with which I was im- 
pressed that morning. The idea of appearing in a 
new character, of entering on a station which I have 
no view of relinquishing till the day of my death ; the 
weight of responsibility which attaches to the ministe- 
rial character ; the dread lest I should act in any way 
unworthy of my sacred office ; all these things would 
naturally impart an unusual solemnity to the mind. 
On that day heaven is my witness of the holy resolu- 
tion I formed. Oh that God may ever enable me to 
put them in execution." 

The attention which his labours had excited, while 
an occasional supply, was repeated, now that he had 



2Q3 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



commenced his stated ministry. Soon the chapel be - 
came again crowded to excess. The town waS filled 
with his praise — the most respectable of the inhabit- 
ants were perpetually disappointed in their attempts 
to hear him, not being in any way able to gain admit- 
tance to the chapel, so excessive was the throng. His 
coming seemed to be the commencement of a new era 
in the religious interests of Liverpool — at least 
amongst the dissenters. The prejudices of many were 
gradually subdued. The tone of public sentiment, 
with respect to that class of Christians amongst whom 
he laboured, considerably raised. Many, by no means 
anxious to conceal their opposition to his principles, 
were compelled to pay a just, though reluctant tribute 
to the fascinations of his eloquence ; and many whom 
the fame of that eloquence brought beneath the sound 
of his voice were savingly converted unto God ; and 
of these, some are at this moment honourable members 
.of the church of which he was the pastor. 

So far from being elated by his popularity, and ren- 
dered vain by the uncommon attention he excited and 
received from all ranks — every Sabbath, while he grew 
in public estimation, he seemed to sink in his own es- 
teem, in humble acknowledgments of his own unwor- 
thiness, and in a yet deeper sense of his awful obliga- 
tions. The next is an extract of a letter to his father. 



No. 34. 

Liverpool, February 26, 1811. 

* 1 assure you I have every reason to believe, that 
this is the sphere in which Infinite wisdom intends me 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. ' 203 

to move. My congregation is vast every time I dis- 
pense the word of life. A general spirit of hearing 
seems excited in this large town — the prospect is in 
every respect encouraging, and I am induced to hope, 
that great good will be done. I feel the awful respon- 
sibility that attaches to my employment ; and when I 
recollect the multitude of souls committed to my care, 
I tremble, and exclaim ' Who is sufficient for these 
things ?' I often think how different is my situation 
now, to what it was when I lived at my father's house. 
I am called to an active and laborious scene. Once it 
was enough for me just to execute your wishes, and 
then in the quiet enjoyment of our own family circle 
to experience satisfaction and comfort. Now God has 
blessed me by making me a blessing to others. May 
he preserve me faithful, and make me an honourable 
and holy Christian !" 

In another letter to his father, dated April the 9th, 
1811, he says — 

" The interest excited in this town is still lively and 
great. I trust much good is done. Prejudices are re- 
moved, convictions are impressed on the mind, and the 
cause of Satan appears to tremble, under the influence 
of the doctrines of the Cross." 

This is indeed a portrait worthy the attention of the 
candidate for the Christian ministry— the student and 
the minister. It is charming to behold such excel- 
lence, so universally applauded, veiled from its own 
observation by such deep humility. Some have in- 
dulged in speculations on the probable influence of 
Spencer's popularity upon his character, had he been 



204 



MEMOIRS OF SPENt'EK. 



spared. It is possible that its influence might ha-> e 
been injurious ; he was a man, though lie was a 
Christian. But it is ungenerous and unjust to his 
memory to cherish any gloomy suspicions on the 
subject, when, long as he did live, he sustained the 
Christian character with unsullied purity, and de- 
scended to the grave the same holy, humble, and de- 
voted youth, as when emerging from the obscurity of 
his birth, the world first witnessed his unfolding 
powers. 

To the extracts already made, illustrative of his hu- 
mility, I shall add another — which as it is without 
date, may be well introduced here. 

No. 35. 
TO A IMINISTER. 



" I have at length taken up my pen to return 
you my sincere acknowledgments for the lively in- 
terest you take in my welfare and happiness, and es- 
pecially for the excellent advice you have given me, as 
to the faithfulness of my preaching, and the circum- 
spection necessary in my conduct. Oh ! never may 
I be left to indifference in the statement of those glo- 
rious truths, which may well demand the glowing fer- 
vour of our souls, since their importance is declared 
to us by the blood of the Lamb ! May the same Sav- 
iour be honoured by my feeble ministrations, whom 
I know you delight to extol. You have been long 
engaged in endeavouring to give Him a high place 
jn the affections — and a throne in the hearts of the 



MEMOIRS <JY SPENCER. 205 

people. This, however, is a glorious cause, in which 
I have but lately embarked ; yet may the same Holy 
Spirit, who has enabled the heralds of salvation in ev- 
ery age to testify of Jesus, make my tongue ever to tell 
his excellence, warm my heart to feel his love, and in- 
fluence my conduct to show forth his praise ! I think 
I hear you add, Amen !" 

The following is also without date :— < 



No. 36. 

TO 

Liverpool* 

s » MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I earnestly wish for you the support and the 
care of our constant and unchangeable friend, the 
Lord Jesus Christ : every day seems to convince me 
of the necessity and the happiness of a close walk 
with God : let us be always trusting in God, and pray- 
ing to him, and there is no doubt but he will preserve 
and bless us. I was much pleased with an instance 
of resignation to the Divine Will I lately met with. 
A pious and valuable member of our congregation lost 
his property, to a considerable amount, by an alarming 
fire. I was with him soon after it happened, and it 
would have done you good to have heard him say, with 
so much calm and sacred acquiescence as he discovered, 
" The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away | 
blessed be the name of the Lord." I could not but 
wish that in all times of trial, I and my friends might 
18 



206 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



have the same God to strengthen and fortify the mind 
as he had. Indeed yon were mistaken, my worthy 
friend, when you judged my letter to you an expres- 
sion of joy at separation from my friends. No, No. 
There is not a heart in the world that feels more truly 
and sincerely on such occasions than my own ; but I 
wish ever to remember the great object of my exist- 
ence, and of my call to the ministry — not selfish ends 
but the glory of my God ; and when he commands, 
whatever flesh and blood might suggest, or carnal wish- 
es desire, I must immediately obey. It is this thought, 
and the persuasion that I am employed in the vineyard 
of the Lord, just according to His will, that give me 
composure and peace of mind ; and I can witness that 
prayer unloads and eases the mind as much at Liver- 
pool as any where else. Here I hope I have felt such 
salutary convictions of the awful responsibility of my 
work, as I never knew before, and as I hope I shall 
never forget ; and happy am I to find, that here there 
are many of the Lord's jewels, his choicest favourites, 
many who call on the name of the Lord Jesus, both 
theirs and ours, out of a pure heart and faith unfeign- 
ed. In our prayer meeting, I have enjoyed a heaven 
begun below, and that kind of devotion which can well 
repay me for the sacrifices I have made. I suppose 
you have heard of the prospects of usefulness which 
open themselves before me ; may I have grace to im- 
prove every hour of my time to the service of my God. 
and to maintain that holiness and integrity of conduct 
which will recommend the glorious gospel I proclaim. 
According to my arrangements, I expect to be in town 
hi May. Remember me affectionately to our friends. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 207 

1 often think of the pleasant opportunities we have en- 
joyed together, and often wish you resided here. 

Whenever you see Mr. H , of W- , give my 

respects to him. I highly esteem him, because he dis- 
covers much of the image and spirit of Christ ; and 
these are excellencies which must be loved by us, if 
we are Christians, wherever we find them. May the 
God of peace be with you, and ever keep you near 
himself. Pray for me, that I may have all needful 
grace and assistance. Write as soon as possible, and 
ever view me 

" Your affectionate friend, 

« THOMAS SPENCER » 

But scarcely had Spencer entered on the full dis- 
charge of his public duties at Liverpool, when severe 
affliction in the endeared circle of his connexions at 
Brighton called him to that place. A letter written 
about this period, displays the agonized state of his 
feelings — but abounds with expressions of holy acqui- 
escence in the Divine dispensations. He left Liver- 
pool on the 18th of March, accompanied by the valued 
friend, under whose roof he still resided, and whose 
guest he was during his first visit. Arrived in Lon- 
don, the following hasty note bespeaks the anguish of 
his mind. 

Ludgate-street, Tuesday Might 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" This moment I am within a few doors of you s 

but cannot reach you. Mr. H . is with me : we 

have just got in from Liverpool, and start for B.to= 



208 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



morrow, at seven o'clock in the morning. I shall wri te 
to you from Brighton. Pray for me : I am in unutter- 
able distress. Farewell ! 

« T. SPENCER." 

The Sabbath after his arrival in Brighton, he did not 
engage in any public service. Much of the day doubt- 
less was spent in administering comfort to the afflicted. 
The fears which he had sometimes been induced to 
harbour, were not, however, realized ; health slowly 
returned. His friend was under the necessity of hast- 
ening to Liverpool, after the lapse of a few days — but 
Mr. Spencer remained at Brighton. His affectionate 
heart dictated the following letter, to welcome his 
friend on his arrival home. 

No. S7V 

TO MR. H . 

Brighton, Thursday Morning. . 

" MY DEAR AND VALUED FRIEND, 

" I am pleasing my self with the idea, that before 
this reaches Liverpool, you will have shared the hearty 
and affectionate welcome of a beloved and happy fam- 
ily : this is a blessing which you know how to improve 
and enjoy aright, and for which I am persuaded you 
will express the sincerest gratitude to the God of our 
mercies. May the same kind and watchful Provi- 
dence, which has I trust led you to your home in peace 
and safety, also preserve and defend me, that I may 
be again restored to tho; church and congregation at 



Memoirs of spencer. £0$ 

Newington, and be enabled to pursue a course of active 
and useful labour in the service of the Master whom * 
hope I really love. 

" I frequently think that by this visit to Brighton 
on so mournful an occasion, I shall be better fitted to 
sympathize with the afflicted in general, and be taught 
how to commend them to God. Before this I had not 
been at all familiar with scenes of sorrow and distress. 
In the two sick rooms you visited last Monday evening, 
I have learned lessons which I shall' never forget, and 
the benefit of which may probably be communicated to 
the Church of Christ, as well as to myself. 

" Our Redeemer himself, in order to be rendered a 
merciful and compassionate high-priest, was < tempted 
like as we are f endured the various ills and sorrows 
that flesh is heir to ; and hence (oh ! blessed sympathy 
•and kind relief) he is able to succour them that are 
tempted. 

< ; Next Sabbath morning I intend to preach at the 
Countess' chapel, and in the evening at Mr. Styles' : 
pray for me, that I may be supported and blest. It is 
still my design to reach Liverpool on Friday night : 
tell our friends, that they may expect to see me in tiie 
pulpit on the following Sabbath. May I be there richly 
laden with the good things of the kingdom ;-— may I be, 
animated by a mind fraught with rich and heavenly fa- 
vours, lam sure that if my God restores those who 
are so dear to me to perfect health and strength, my 
heart, hard as it is, will not be insensible to the feeling 
of gratitude. No ;— it will leap as doth a hart ; it will 
pant with the sensations of unutterable joy. I have 
received a very kind letter from our worthy friend, 



210 



MEMOIRS OF SPEXCEit. 



Mr. N. H 5 do tell him it afforded inereal pleas- 

ure, and give him my hearty thanks for his solicitude for 
my happiness. I hope you are going on well with the 
new Chapel business ; if possible, let us make Satan 
tremble 5 against the kingdom of darkness let us use 
the most active and unwearied exertions, and God shall 
bless us in our deed. I wish I could hare attended the 
meeting of the Bible Society ; my absence however 
was unavoidable. Give my affectionate regards to my 

dear friend Mrs. H and to your dear children, 

I hope I shall soon see you all happy and well. Your 
unremitting kindness to me has produced impressions 
upon my mind which will never be obliterated. I 
shall be happy again to mix with your family circle, 
and to occupy my own pulpit. To the hearers at New- 
ington I intend to shew my regard and best wishes. 
by constantly labouring in their service. 
" I am more than ever your's, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 



The uncommon attention excited in Liverpool by 
Mr. Spencers ministry, soon suggested the necessity 
of providing more accommodation than Newington 
chapel could afford, for the numbers who were anxious 
to enjoy the benefit of his stated labours. At first the 
idea of enlarging the old place of worship presented it- 
self; but some difficulties arising, this was relinquish- 
ed, and early in March it was resolved, that a chapel 
capable of accommodating two thousand persons should 
be erected — a committee of management was appoint- 
ed — and an eligible spot of ground soon selected for 
the purpose* A most judicious plan for the building 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. - 9A\ 

was proposed and adopted — the dimensions of which 
were thirty-two yards long outside, and twenty -one 
yards and a half broad outside. A liberal subscription 
was soon obtained, and the affair was in a state of such 
forwardness on his return from Brighton, that on the 
15th of April, Mr. Spencer laid the first stone of the 
chapel, in the presence of an immense assembly — com- 
puted to consist of about six thousand persons. On that 
truly interesting occasion, he delivered an appropriate 
address, and solemnly dedicated the place to God by 
prayer.* 

About this time Mr. Spencer removed from the 
hospitable abode of his early friend, with whom he had 
resided on his first coming to Liverpool, in order to 
lodge with Mr. Thurstan Lassel, in the Park Road: a 
pleasant situation, about half a mile from the town. It 
was the lot of Spencer to be beloved in exery circle 
which he entered — «and none who were honoured to 
behold his excellence, and enjoy his friendship, ever 
resigned him, without feelings of the deepest regret. 
I cannot deny myself the pleasure of extracting a sen- 
tence or two from the willing testimony which that 
friend has borne to the sterling worth of his amiable 
guest. I am the more anxious to do this, as it will 
unveil his character in private life, and shew us, what 
he was as the member of a family. 

" We had the great advantage of Mr. Spencer's pi- 
ous conversation and fervent prayers in the family for 

* For the oration delivered at the foundation of the chapel — 
and also for an account of the services performed at its opening- 
in May, 1812— see Appendix. No, V 



212 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

near four months, for he did not leave us tiii the latter 
end of April 5 it was indeed a pleasant, and I trust, 
a profitable season, which we often review with great 
delight. With what pleasing emotions have we often 
surrounded our domestic altar, and witnessed the fer- 
vour of his addresses to the God and Father of our 
Lord Jesus Christ. In this delightful employ, he nev- 
er seemed to engage with half a heart, his whole soul 
was alive to the service of his God : he was serious in 
a serious cause, nor did any circumstances that arose 
ever seem to unfit him for the discharge of religious 
duties. Morning and evening he generally engaged 
in prayer at family worship ; the variety he produced 
on these occasions has often astonished us ; it was im- 
possible to trace any thing like repetition, every pray- 
er seemed quite new, and gave fresh proof of the pow- 
ers of his mind, and the ardour of his soul. 

" Mr. Spencer naturally possessed an amiable dis- 
position, and was innocently cheerful ; no one could 
say that gloom or melancholy was connected with 
his religion. In his manners he was simple and un- 
affected ; any thing like ostentation or parade he dis- 
liked exceedingly; he would always, if possible, avoid 
mixing with large parties, The company of serious, 
pious, plain Christians was his delight. He was kind, 
generous, and tender-hearted ; the wants of the poor 
and necessitous he was ready and willing to relieve ; 
6 To do good and communicate, he forgot not, knowing 
that with such sacrifices God is well pleased." 

But whilst all around him was prosperous and hap- 
py — whilst his ministry was successful beyond his 
. most sanguine expectations — and hundreds were eag^r 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 213 

to administer to his comfort' — -his heart was the vic- 
tim of anxiety and grief. The continued and alarm- 
ing indisposition of his friends at Brighton, inspired 
his delicate and susceptible mind with the most gloomy 
and agonizing fears. It was well. His heavenly Fa- 
ther saw he needed some thorn in the flesh, under the 
circumstances of his unexampled popularity, to pre- 
vent his being exalted above measure— -and to preserve 
his soul in a frame of holy solemnity, and humble re- 
liance on himself. Lest the sun of his prosperity 
should dazzle him too much, these friendly clouds 
were permitted to intervene. Their salutary influ- 
ence may be traced in the following letter : — 

No. 38. 
TO MR. JOHN HADDON. 

Liverpool, Jlpril 16, 1811. 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" The melancholy state of depression in which 
I have been held so long, must form my excuse for 
neglecting the sacred duties of friendship, in not wri- 
ting before this to you. Oh ! how soon can Jehovah 

blast our hopes of happiness from creature comforts, to 
convince us of the uncertainty of all earthly good ! 
We must " walk by faith," and live in the exercise of 
a lively hope, that we shall obtain a better and more 
permanent rest. I scarcely dare, for my own part, 
anticipate any other kind of happiness on earth, but 
what may arise from communion with the Saviour, and 
the delightful work in winch J am engaged, which, I 



-214 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



must say, amidst all my trials affords me increasing 
happiness and pleasure. Thanks he to God, the work 
of tlie Lord is prospering in my hand : and though I 
may not have much pleasure in this world myself, I 
hope I shall he the means, in the hands of the Holy 
Spirit, of putting into the possession of my fellow crea- 
tures, real and substantial felicity ; this, the gospel I 
am enabled to preach is sent to confer. The next week 
I expect to go to my lodgings. I shall reside in a 
retired rural and delightful spot, with a family (three 
only in number) who belong to the congregation in 
which the Lord has graciously called me to labour ; it 
is about half a mile from the town, away from all bustle 
and noise, commanding a most delightful and enchant- 
ing prospect of both land and water. My study af- 
fords a most extensive view of fields and hills, the riv- 
er, and the adjacent county (Cheshire.) I am persua- 
ded it is every thing I could wish for as a plan for my 
residence. In that pleasant study* I expect to spend 
much time, and enjoy some degree of pleasure ; and 
my dear friend will believe me when I assure him. that 



* To me it is a melancholy reflection, that I should so soon 
become the occupier of a spot in which he had fondly pictured 
to himself so many years of pleasure. In his own study — on his 
own table — in his own chair — I am now drawing up these me- 
moirs of his life ; — around me are the fruits of his short but 
laborious exertions — and immediately before my eyes the path 
by which he descended to his grave ! From every object within 
my view, I am admonished * ivork whilst it is day, for the night 
Cometh, ivhen no man can tvork. 3 I would that every loiterer in 
the vineyard of Christ were attended by mementos such as 
these.. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. %\% 

amidst the afflictions which our righteous Father judg- 
es the best schools for me, it would tend to alleviate my 
sorrows, and cheer my spirits, could he be in my new 
study, and as he did in my old one, occasionally spend 
an hour or two with me in social chat. 

" Yesterday I laid the foundation stone of my new 
chapel, gave an address upon the spot, and dedicated 
the place to God in solemn prayer. The auditory con- 
sisted of not less than five thousand people, who were 
all fixed in their attention. May I, on that ground, 
often find a solace for my cares, in the public worship 
of God ! May he bless the undertaking ! May his eyes 
and his heart be there perpetually ! 

" Farewell I must break off by assuring you, that I 
-am sincerely your's, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

The week following that in which he laid the foun- 
dation stone of the new chapel, Mr. Spencer made an 
excursion into the country, and preached on the Tues- 
day evening at Barmen, and on the Thursday evening 
at a meeting of ministers at Blackburn. 

During this journey, he suffered much from the com- 
plaint to which he was subject — but although labour- 
ing under the pressure of severe indisposition, in the 
pulpit he rose superior to the influence of langour and 
pain — and his exertions on that journey are still spoken 
of by those who witnessed them, and they were many, 
with delight. 

On his return to Liverpool, Mr. Spencer received 
a melancholy summons to Chester, to attend the funeral 
of his early and amiable friend, the Rev. Ebenezev 



216 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



White, and to deliver the oration at his grave. His 
obligations and attachment to that excellent man have 
already been recorded. When arrived at the scene of 
death, his delicate mind seemed overwhelmed in an 
ugony of grief. He stood weeping in unutterable dis- 
tress over the cold remains of his departed friend. 
His bosom formed for friendship, and even then the 
seat of no ordinary sorrow, was ill prepared to sustain 
the pressure of a stroke, by which he was suddenly 
bereft of one who had discharged for him the relations 
of the father, the tutor, and the friend ! Mr/ Walter 
White, who was the witness of his grief, has thus de- 
scribed it : — " I shall not easily forget this dear young 
man's behaviour on the evening preceding my broth- 
er's funeral at Chester. We were standing together 
by the side of the coffin, viewing the corpse — he wept 
excessively, and clasping his hands with great emotion 
exclaimed, 6 Oh ! that I may but finish my course like 
him !' and turning to me, he said with his usual energy, 
6 Oh ! what a fine thought it is, that the bodies of the saints 
are purchased by Christ as well as their souls.' And 
then passing his friendly hand gently over my brother's 
face, he said, with great emphasis, 'This body is the 
purchase of Christ : it cannot be lost — it must revive 
again — all these limbs must resume their activity. Oh ! 
with what fine sentiments and ideas does the Christian 
religion furnish us to what any of the heathen systems 
did !" 

Though excessively agitated in his whole frame, he 
yet sustained himself to deliver at the grave a funeral 
oration, characterized by tender and solemn eloquence 
— the eloquence of feeling and of piety. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 217 

His letters to his friends for some time after this 
event, contain occasional allusions to the death of Mr. 
White— and in a way which proves how much he lo- 
ved him — how deeply he deplored his loss. In one he 
says— ■ 

" I have lately been visiting a scene of death at 
Chester : my worthy friend Mr. White is now no 
more in this world ; but I doubt not, he shines illustri- 
ously in another state of existence. When I was 
eleven years of age he came to Hertford, and used to 
spend a great deal of time with me : ah ! little did I 
then think I should have to deliver a funeral address 
at his interment, and so far away too from the place 
with which we were then familiar. Peace to his ashes, 
and eternal joy to his departed spirit! and ere long 
may I meet him in that blessed state, where disappoint- 
ments will no longer be his lot or mine." 

On the Sabbath evening following, Mr. Spencer 
preached a funeral sermon for his friend, in his own 
pulpit at Liverpool, from Deut. xxxiv. 5, ' So Moses, 
the servant of the Lord, died there in the land of *ftIoab 9 
according to the word of the Lord? The sermon was 
solemn and impressive. Thus we record the mortality 
of others, and drop into eternity ourselves. On that 
Sabbath evening three months, his own funeral sermon 
was preached in the same pulpit. 

The following letter was written the day before the 
funeral of Mr. White. — 



19 



MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER, 



No. 39. 
TO MR. HADDON. 



May ISfA, 1811. 



'MY DEAR FRIEND. 



" I am ashamed when I think of the length of time 
which has passed since I last wrote to you • but indeed 
since then I have scarcely written to any one, so much 
have I been occupied. What a beautiful and admirable 
narrative is the Dairyman's Daughter ; if you can, get me 
two hundred of them, and send me the very first oppor- 
tunity : they are just the kind of publication I want for 
several of my hearers. Procure me too some of the 
Negro Servant, and of all the interesting modern tracts, 
which your own discretion may suggest. The Rev. 
Ebenezer White of Chester, has entered into the joy 
of Ms Lord. He was formerly settled atHertford. I 
knew him, and highly esteemed him. I am going to his 
funeral. Oh ! how uncertain is human life ! how neces- 
sary that habitual frame of piety which the Holy Spir- 
it can impart to his believing favourites ! May we both 
enjoy the sanctity of religion, love it for its purity, and 
be enabled to discern its holy excellencies ! then we shall 
show that our regeneration is real, and our hope of 
heaven well supported. God is showing me more and 
more of the uncertainty of all things here, and the ne- 
cessity of living the blessed life of faith upon the Son of 
God, who, I sometimes think I can say, " loved me, and 
gave himself for me." I study a good deal, and find in- 
creasing pleasure in it. In visiting, as yet I have done 
but very little. The families I am most intimate with, 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 219 

are the serious, the pious followers of Christ; for I find 
that these alone can help me to comfort under my own 
trials, or in any way do me real good. But I know 
I must not be selfish. I must labour to do good in any 
way I can possibly think of. 

" I am much pleased with my lodgings ; the situation 
is so retired and beautiful, that it is every thing I can 
wish. I doubt not but you continue to pray for me, and 
I need your prayers. I feel the awful responsibility of 
my work, and my own unfitness for it. I long to 
6 present every man perfect in Christ Jesus, 7 Remember 
me affectionately to all our friends. 
" I am sincerely your's, 

« THOMAS SPENCER." 

Mr. Spencer seemed now to become more and more 
interested in his important work ; the scenes of every 
day appeared to present it to his mind in some new 
and interesting light. The powers of his soul were 
absorbed in its concerns. He could think and speak 
of nothing else. In the pulpit, or in preparations for 
it — in serious conversation with his friends — or in the 
chambers of the diseased and dying, he was at home. 
He lived but for the discharge of his high obligations ; 
and in the prosecution of his arduous work he was both 
useful and happy. With astonishing rapidity his char- 
acter and talents ripened. He seemed to grow daily 
in favour both with God and man. All that saiv 
him, admired him, there was something so engaging in 
his manner — all that heard him, respected and revered 
him, so serious and important were the truths which 
he delivered — all that knew him. loved him, for his 



120 MEMOIRS OF SPENCEft. 

was every amiable quality that could excite and retain 
the best affections of the human heart. 

Valuable as our public institutions for the education 
of students for the Christian ministry really are, they 
can afford but an inadequate conception of the compli- 
cated duties of the pastoral office. The work of the 
pulpit is perhaps, after all, not the most difficult or 
trying part of the pastor's employ — and the reason 
why so many fail when called into active service in 
the Church of God, is probably this, that they never 
calculated upon one half of the engagements which then 
press upon their regard. They had formed a most in- 
correct estimate of the numerous claims which the 
office of the ministry involves, upon their time — their 
talents — their patience — and their faith. They had 
imagined, that in the composition and delivery of ser- 
mons was the chief of their labour — and that when this 
duty was discharged by far the heaviest burden was 
removed. The visitation of the sick, with all the pe- 
culiar delicacy, prudence, affection, and faithfulness 
which it requires — the consolation of the distressed, 
with all the caution and skill which the varieties of their 
grief demand — the reproof and admonition of the ir- 
regular, with all the mingled tenderness, constancy and 
fidelity, which, in such difficult cases, must be exercised 
—the care of the young, with that adaptation of temper 
and manner to their capacities which, in the work of 
catechising, familiar conversation or public instruction, 
is absolutely necessary — the advising, comforting and 
relieving the distressed, the embarrassed, and the in- 
digent, who ail press to him for counsel, solace and 
relief: — these, and unnumbered other duties connect* 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 221 

ed with the pastoral office, are perhaps but seldom 
contemplated with sufficient seriousness amid the ex- 
ercises of a college. And even in the public engage- 
ments of ministry, the circumstances of the pastor 
differ materially from those of the student. The pulpit 
compositions of the student are general ; those of the 
pastor must be particular. The student has no individ- 
ual case to suit 5 the congregation to whom he preaches 
are strangers to him ; the pastor has as many cases as 
there are people committed to his charge. The student 
can select his topics, and adapt his preaching to the 
tone of his mind — or if peculiar reluctance should be 
felt, may enjoy the repose he wishes, and not preach at 
all ; but the pastor must appear at the stated hours of 
worship, whatever be the frame and temper of his soul. 
Often he is called to the discussion of subjects but ill 
adapted to his feelings ; and it becomes his duty to ad- 
minister consolation to others which his bleeding bosom 
needs, but cannot take. He must sometimes cover 
with a smiling countenance an aching heart ; and his 
lips must exhort to tranquility and confidence in God, 
whilst over his own spirit broods the cloud of anxiety 
and sorrow ! Happy shall I be if the perusal of these 
imperfect memoirs tend to excite in the breast of any 
a spirit of Christian sympathy and prayer for the 
ministers of the gospel ; or if these statements of the 
labours and anxieties of their office, shall induce those 
to pause and count the mighty cost, who may be thought- 
lessly pressing forward to the arduous work. Let such, 
remember the worth of souls — the guilt of becoming 
accessary to their ruin — and the solemn account all 
must render at the bar of God, who have taken upon 
*19 



222 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



themselves the responsibility of seeking, by every pos- 
sible method, to promote their eternal interests. 

These considerations seemed ever present to the view 
of Spencer. The feelings of an affectionate and faithful 
pastor's heart breathe in every sentence of the follow- 
ing letter. 

No. 40. 



TO MR. HADDON. 

Liverpool, May 51, 1811. 

"MY DEAR FRIEND, 

" You really must excuse my apparent neglect 
in not writing you before ; but if you knew the num- 
ber and pressing nature of my avocations, you would 
not wonder. I now feel, and deeply too, the dreadful 
responsibility of my employment. I have sick beds 
constantly to attend — a numerous congregation com- 
mitted to my charge — a character to sustain, which 
ought ever to appear free, even from the very appear- 
ance of evil — and all this with the most depressed 
state of feelings, and but little experience of the ardu- 
ous duties the course of the Christian ministry embra- 
ces. Often do I exclaim, 6 who is sufficient for these 
things ? 9 Oh ! that I may find that my sufficiency is 
of God. I am led at times to derive encouragement 
from the good which I trust the blessed Spirit has ac- 
complished by my feeble labours; but then I think 
again of my youth, my inexperience, my exposure to 
the fiery darts of the wicked one, and the possibility 
of my eventually becoming 6 a cast-away. 9 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 22S 

" Oh ! there are many feelings of this painful class 
in my mind, which few can share, which I cannot dare 
frequently to communicate. 

" All this and much more, do I daily feel. I wish 
yoi* were with me. I could say a thousand things I 
cannot write, and you might console me with the com- 
forts wherewith you yourself are comforted of God ! 
Do pray for me, for I need it more than ever now. Of- 
ten do I dispense to others that consolation I cannot 
take myself. 

" Thank you a thousand times for Cecil. Oh ! they 
are admirable ; what a character was he. Oh ! that 
the Head of the Church would but make me like him. 
The tracts are just what I wanted 5 may a Divine 
blessing attend the distribution of them. Farewell ! 
" I am your's affectionately, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 

In another letter he writes : 

* Cecil's works are a high treat indeed : you can- 
not think how J enjoy the perusal of them. There are 
such valuable hints for ministers — such inestimable 
directions, that I hope I shall evince the benefit of 
reading them, to the last hour of the day in which I am 
appointed to work !" 

The church and congregation at Liverpool now be- 
came anxious for Mr. Spencer's ordination, and Thurs- 
day the 27th of June was appointed for that solemn ser- 
vice. In the following letter he announced it to his 
early friend and patron, Mr. Wilson, whose .presence 
on that occasion he earnestly desired. 



224 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



No. 41. 



TO THOMAS WILSON, ESQ. 



Liverpool, June 4, 1811. 



" MY DEAR SIR, 

" I am happy to inform you, that Thursday 
June the 9,7th. is the day appointed for my ordination. 
Will you allow me to expect the pleasure of your pres- 
ence and society on that solemnity ? If you were here, 
you would be pleased with my prospect of usefulness, 
and you would be able to suggest some hints to our 
friends about the new chapel. Little tilings are apt to 
be neglected, and their neglect, though apparently tri- 
fling, would spoil the whole concern. We may well 
congratulate each other on the triumph the dissenters 
have obtained over an intolerant and oppressive spirit. 
They have imagined a vain thing : the Lord reigneth, 
let the people tremble. You know the great depression 
of spirits under which I have for some time laboured ; 
may the Lord appear a present help in this time of 
trouble. The walls of Zion are to be built, it appears, 
in troublous times, for sucli they are to me : yet I would 
submissively commit my cause to God : he may ordain 
that the benefit of his Church, and the good of others, 
shall be promoted by the ills I endure. You know poor 
White, of Chester, has received the end of his faith — 
the salvation of his soul 5 1 delivered the oration over 
his grave. Mr. Fletcher, of Blackburn, preached his 
funeral sermon. We are all dying creatures, hasten- 
ing to the world of immortality. I think that lately 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. £25 

the world has appeared to me in its true light — < it 
passeth aivay? May we by every dispensation of 
Providence be rendered more meet for the inheritance 
of the saints in light : in due time may we be clothed 
upon with our house, which is from heaven. Present 
my kind respects to Mrs. and Miss Wilson. I hope 
you will try to visit Liverpool by the time mentioned. 
Wishing much to see you, I remain, dear Sir, 
"Affectionately your's 

« THOMAS SPENCER.'^' 

The day of ordination at length arrived. The chapel 
in which Mr. Spencer preached being but small, that 
service, which, amongst dissenters of the congrega- 
tional order, is remarkably solemn, was performed at 
the chapel in Byrom -street, Liverpool, which was hand- 
somely granted to the people at Newington chapel for 
that special purpose. It was indeed an interesting 
day. The services were commenced by the Rev. Mr. 
Evans, of Stockport, who read suitable portions of 
scripture, and implored the Divine blessing upon the sac- 
red engagements of the day. The Rev. Joseph Fletcher, 
M. A. of Blackburn, then delivered an admirable in- 
troductory discourse, and received from Mr. Spencer 
his confession of faith, together with answers to the 
questions usually, on such occasions, proposed to the 
minister to be ordained ;* Mr. Spencer then kneeling 
down, surrounded by his fathers and brethren in the 
ministry, the Rev. John Cockin, of Halifax, offered 
up, with deep solemnity, tiie ordination prayer, ac- 

* For Mr, Spencer's confession of faith. Sec. see Appendix, 
No- VI, * ™ 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



companied by the imposition of hands. To this act 
of ordination succeeded a most impressive and af- 
fecting charge from the Rev. William Hordle, of Har- 
wich, Mr. Spencer's former tutor and friend. The 
passage on which this excellent address was founded 
was Col. iv. 17. < Take heed to the ministry which 
thou hast received in the Lord, that thou fulfil US The 
Rev. Mr. Roby, of Manchester, preached to the people 
of Mr Spencer's charge, upon the duties which devol- 
ved on them in the relation that day publicly recogni- 
zed from Gal. iv. 18, ' It is good to be zealously af- 
fected always in a good thing.'' The service was 
throughout most affecting and impressive ; it was char- 
acterized by a peculiar solemnity, both in the feelings 
of the ministers and the people. The tender frame 
and delicate mind of Spencer was nearly overwhelmed 
by the awful considerations which then pressed upon 
him. Had the melancholy event which so rapidly 
succeeded this interesting service been at that time 
certainly announced , a seriousness more suitable to 
the occasion could hardly have been inspired ; and 
indeed in Mr. Hordle's charge there were passages 
which in the sad sequel of this history appear most 
singularly appropriate — bordering even on the pro- 
phetic ! One in particular deserves to be recorded : — 
" You, my dear young brother, must die, and stand 
at the bar of God. Your ordination service may be 
only a prelude to your funeral service, for what is 
man ? Man is but of yesterday, and his days are as a 
shadow. How often have we seen the sun go down 
while it is yet day ! and while the church lias been 
pleasing itself with the prospect of enjoying the pious 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. £27 

fervent labours of an endeared minister for years, has 
an unexpected stroke separated them forever ! Mourn- 
ing survivors wondering have said, ' Verily thou art 
a God that hidest thyself, U God of Israel, the Sav- 
iour." 

Too often such remarks as these are passed by un- 
noticed by the thoughtless — are merely considered as 
expletives to supply the want of other matter — or 
splendid furniture to decorate and give effect to the 
address. The anticipation, though founded in reason, 
warranted by scripture, and authorized by experience, 
is yet unaccompanied by any just assurance of the 
event it realizes ; and its connexion with any special 
decree of God is concealed from mortals. But there 
are seasons when the lips of holy men seem to utter 
something more than those vague admonitions of death, 
which, from their frequent recurrence, or the uncer- 
tainty of their immediate accomplishment, lose their 
power to impress. And to those who admit the doc- 
trine of divine influence upon the minds of men, and 
more especially upon such as are appointed to state 
and enforce the solemn doctrines of revelation to man- 
kind, it can be no source of astonishment that God 
should sometimes direct the thoughts and expressions 
of his ministers into a current adapted to certain ends 
he has to answer, or particular events he intends shall 
shortly come to pass. With respect to the passage 
above cited, and its corresponding event, persons will 
form their own opinion. I cannot, however, but regard 
it as adding somewhat to the force and propriety of ob- 
servations such as these, since here was another in- 
stance, in which the event anticipated by the speaker 



^SiO MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

as possible, though at the time, perhaps, regarded by 
the hearers as highly improbable, was but too surely 
realized ! 

Mr. Spencer was now fully invested with that sa- 
cred office, which from his infancy he had desired ; 
and he set himself diligently to the discharge of its mo- 
mentous duties. That he felt its importance, was ev- 
ident to all. His habitual conduct and conversation 
proved it. To his most intimate friends he freely ex- 
pressed his anxieties respecting it, and earnestly did 
he implore an interest in the prayers of his people and 
his brethren in the ministry. In the assurance that 
he laboured amongst a praying people, he felt confi- 
dence : and no consideration is more adapted to re- 
lieve the mind of a faithful minister than this — while 
it pours unseen a thousand blessings on his head, it 
secures to his labours an affectionate attention, and an 
earnest desire rightly to appreciate and improve 
them. That which persons make the subject of ear- 
nest prayer, they will -usually value ; and it is hardly 
possible but "that good must be uniformly the result, 
when both minister and people come from their clos- 
ets, which have witnessed their fervent intercessions 
for each other to the house of God. The apostle knew 
how to estimate the prayers even of the meanest 
Christians who enjoyed his labours, ' Brethren, pray 
foi* as.'* — It is true that a people will for the most 



* See an admirable sermon upon this subject by the Rev. 
William Jay, of Bath, preached at the settlement of the Rev. 
Henry Forster Burder, A. M. at Hackney. Every pious min- 
ister, who knows its worth, must wish to see tills excellent 
discourse in the hands of his people- 



MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 229 

part take the cast of their religious character from that 
of their minister : if he be much alive to God, and zeal- 
ous in the discharge of his ministry, he will communi- 
cate the sacred flame to all around him, and cause his 
people to reflect on every side the light his preaching 
and his example shed. But, on the other hand, are 
there no instances in which the reverse of this has been 
the case 5 the minister has been gradually disheartened 
and dispirited by a cold, supine, and worldly-minded 
people, who have continually thwarted him in his gene- 
rous designs — counteracted his benevolent efforts — and 
quenched, by indifference and neglect, the ardour of his 
zeal. Instead of assisting him in his glorious work, 
they have hung like weights about his garments ; and 
instead of acting as pioneers to prepare the paths of 
Christian benevolence for his willing feet to tread, they 
have clogged up the avenues with obstacles, and lined 
the way with insuperable difficulties. The spirit of 
the man has been broken by perpetual disappointment 
— vexation has gradually enervated his mind- — and by 
slow and imperceptible degrees he has sunk into torpor 
and indifference — and the langour of the pastor has at 
length presented an unhappy counterpart to the supine- 
ness of the people. And even where neither the cause 
nor the consequences obtain to so alarming and fatal 
degree, still it is to be deplored that any approach 
to them should be suffered to exist. Here the stated 
attendants on a gospel ministry may often find a rea- 
son for that want of pleasure and improvement which 
sometimes they deplore, though most unjustly, at the 
preacher's cost. If prayer, special and fervent, for a 
blessing on their pastor's labours, ha* been neglected, 
20 






£30 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

the mystery is at once developed. For they have no 
right whatever to expect a blessing without prayer ; 
and as they have no right to expect it without prayer, 
neither are they in a suitable frame to receive it ; and 
thus it often happens, that where the prayerless soul 
departs empty away, the humble and earnest petitioner 
obtains a rich and suitable supply from the same table, 
and of the same food. It is light bread to the one, but 
it is life-giving and substantial provision to the other. 
* Ask and ye shall receive? 

On the first Sabbath in July Mr. Spencer dispen- 
sed, for the first time, the solemn ordinance of the 
Lord's supper. It was a time of love — a season of re- 
freshing from the presence of the Lord. The sweet 
impression of that happy day still remains, and its 
memory is yet dear to many. On the following Monday 
at the social prayer meeting in the evening, in the bo- 
som of his people, he again solemnly dedicated him- 
self to God, and renewed his vows to consecrate all 
his powers to their service in the work of the minis- 
try. Indeed, all he wrote, or said, or did, indicated 
the holy fervour of his soul. Tenderly alive to the 
sacred delicacy of his character, he was anxious to sus- 
tain it well, that the cause of Jesus might not suffer by 
any spots it might contract. Conscientiously awake 
to every call of duty which his most responsible station 
might involve, he was ready to obey them all— that the 
ministry might not be blamed ! — The following letter 
is from his correspondence about this time, and may be 
numbered with the last he ever wrote. The expres- 
sions which I have copied, are mingled with others sac- 
red to the privacy of friendship. They promise pleas- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 231 

ures never realized — unfold prospects suddenly des- 
troyed — and record arrangements he was no* permitted 
to fulfil ! 



No. 42. 
TO MR. H ADDON. 

Liverpool, July 8, 1311. 

" MY DEAR FRIEND, 

***** 

« The ordination has, for the last fortnight, 
occupied almost the whole of my attention, and the 
impression, the solemn, the holy impression of which 
I trust I shall never forget. Yesterday for the first 
time in my life, I administered the ordinance of the 
Lord's supper, and found it to be indeed ' a time of 
refreshing from the presence of the Lord.' My duties 
are more and more important and pressing. Conver- 
sations upon religious experience with candidates for 
admission into our church, the baptism of children, 
and the calls of the sick and dying must necessarily 
engage much of my attention. But I can sincerely 
bless God, that amidst all the depression of mind I 
have suffered, my work has been my delight. The du- 
ties of the ministry have often refreshed, instead of 
oppressing me. The pleasure of the Lord has pros- 
pered in my hands. I love the service of the Head 
of the Church better than ever I did : when I am wa- 
tering others, I find that Jehovah the spirit waters my 



232 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



*wn soul too ! Oh ! is not this an encouraging token 

for good ? 

" In great haste, 
" I am ever jour affectionate friend, 

" THOMAS SPENCER." 



In the mean time, Mr. Spencer was not confined to 
his own pulpit. He gave his brethren in the ministry 
tokens of his affectionate regard, by officiating for 
them in their respective places : and he also made 
several excursions into the country. Mr. Spencer 
did not encourage the idea, that as he had become by 
voluntary consecration the minister of a particular 
church, the church in general had now lost every 
claim upon his kind attention. Nor were the people 
amongst whom he laboured of a disposition so selfish 
and narrow, as to wish to confine his exertions exclu- 
sively to the spot they occupied. That the first and 
constant regards of a pastor are due to the people of 
his charge, none can dispute ; but with the work of 
the pastor, to a certain extent, may with the greatest 
propriety be added that of an evangelist. There are 
surrounding districts that will often cry to him for help, 
which he is bound to render — there are destitute so- 
cieties to whom he must minister consolation and in- 
struction, in token of his brotherly love — and there 
are interchanges of friendship, which promote union, 
winch relieve the mind, and which will ever be found 
beneficial to the churches by whom they are encour- 
aged. Intercourse with society informs the judgment 
— corrects the views, and expands the mind. Long 
labour in one appointed sphere, however important 



< 
MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 235 

and delightful the duties it involves, and especially 
where all the powers of the mind are ever on the 
stretch, must produce at length weariness, sameness, 
monotony. A visit to another scene — intercourse 
with other connexions— refreshes and revives the 
wasted spirits and the weary frame. And the church, 
however they may value their pastor's ministry and 
regret his absence, will not eventually be losers by the 
temporaiy privation they may suffer. 

But we must, however reluctant, pass on to the clo- 
sing scenes of Mr. Spencer's life. As his death was 
sudden, I have none of those sayings or Sentiments 
to record which occupy the last pages of most bio- 
graphical sketches of departed saints ; and yet his 
friends remember, with peculiar pleasure, in what a 
holy frame of mind he appeared to be during the whole 
of the week previous to his removal. If I should be 
more minute than may be deemed absolutely neces- 
sary in what remains of these imperfect memoirs of 
this lovely youth, I trust that I shall be forgiven. I 
write for friendship ; and to his friends it must afford 
peculiar gratification to follow him through all the 
scenes he visited, and mark the slightest movements 
of his mind during the last week of his residence 
on this earth. 

On Sabbath day, July 28, being the day appointed 
for a collection for the new chapel, Mr. Spencer 
preached a most excellent sermon in the morning 
from Ezra ix. 8. ' And now for a little space grace 
has been shewed from the Lord our God to leave us a 
remnant to escape, and to give us a nail in his holy 
place, that our God may lighten our eyes, and give us 
*20 



•2o4 '.MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

a little reviving in our bondage.' In the evening liis 
text was Acts xiii. 26, < To you is the word of this 
salvation senV On that day he exerted himself great- 
ly, and complained much of a pain at his heart, but did 
not seem at night particularly fatigued. The follow- 
ing day he spent chiefly in conversation with his 
friends respecting the state of the church, and some 
candidates for communion who were to be visited and 
received during that week — he dined at the house of 
a friend — in the afternoon visited the sick room of 
one of his members — and in the evening attended the 
prayer meeting at the chapel, when he recapitulated 
the outline of a sermon which had been preached on 
the Wednesday evening preceding, by the Rev. Mr. 
Davies, of London. His memory was remarkably re- 
tentive, and he gave in that exercise a proof of its 
powers, which astonished all that heard him. That 
evening he slept in Liverpool, and early on Tuesday 
morning he went with a friend to Prescot and laid the 
foundation stone of a new chapel there, and delivered 
an address adapted to the occasion, in the presence of 
a large assembly. From the ground he retired to the 
house of a gentleman in Prescot, whose child he then 
baptized, and so proceeded immediately to St. Hel- 
en's, a town about four miles distant, where he preach- 
ed in the evening. On Wednesday afternoon he re- 
turned much fatigued to Liverpool, but preached in 
the evening with great animation, from a text selected 
for Mm, by one of the young persons of his church ; 
Rev. xi. 2, 'Nevertheless I have somewhat against 
tJiee, because thou hast left thy frst love.'' The Rev. 
Mr. Wray, the missionary at Demerara, was then in 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. Q35 

Liverpool, and was at the chapel. A friend who saw 
Mr. Spencer in the vestry after service, observed him 
to be much exhausted, and heard him say, for the first 
time, " Oh ! I did not feel comfortable in seeing a 
brother minister in the congregation this evening." 
Usually he did not fear the face of man. On Thurs- 
day, about noon, one of his deacons called upon him 
at his residence, and he was occupied the whole day 
with him in visiting those who were to be received in- 
to the church ; his conversations, with the respective 
candidates, were truly admirable and appropriate, and 
such as will remain in the grateful memory of those 
who had the happiness to enjoy them. On Friday he 
was occupied until the afternoon in writing letters to his 
friends. I am able to present the reader with extracts 
from two of them. 

Jlugust 2,1811. 
" I find growing pleasure in my ministerial 
employment ; this evening I have to admit eight new 
members to church communion ; indeed when I ac- 
cepted this situation, I never conceived that I should 
have half the engagements or duties to attend to, 
which I now find must be accomplished, if I would 
merit the character of an active, useful minister of re- 
ligion. I think my recent afflictions, and the solemn 
duties which now devole upon me, have in a consider- 
able degree chastened my character, and imparted, 
perhaps, a seriousness to my general deportment, 
which may prove highly advantageous to me in future 
life. How long this will last I cannot tell, but I think 
affliction adds a weight to a character nothing else 



236 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



does, and especially to young people and young min- 
isters. I have lately been preaching in the villages 
round Liverpool.— Oh ! let us aim to glorify God and 
then trust all our concerns in his hands, that so at the 
last we may be accepted of him." 

In another, to his father, he says : 
" I was much hurt at the account of my mother's* 
illness ; I hope no distressing circumstances have aris- 
en, and by this time, perhaps, I may indulge the idea 
that you are better, yourself. Oh ! how necessary 
that we should all seek a better country, since here 
there is so much change, affliction, and wo. May ev- 
ery trial be sanctified to us all, and we be meetened 
for the inheritance of the saints in light." 

Having concluded his earthly correspondence with 
his distant friends, forever,! he left his residence and 
resumed his pastoral visits amongst his people and the 
candidates who were to be that evening received. At 
the church meeting he was particularly lively ; with 
holy joy he welcomed the new members into the com- 
munion of the church, and as he gave to each the right 



i 



* His step-mother. 

f His correspondence with his beloved and honoured parent 
has been recently renewed. Spencer's father sleeps the sleep of 
death ; his body rests in his bed, but his spirit walks in its up- 
rightness. He was a venerable saint. Few have felt the pres- 
sure of trials such as his, and few have displayed a spirit more 
uncomplaining- and resigned. He walked with God. Eepeat- 
edly before his departure he assured his family that he was 
going- to glory. And on the 25th of December, 1812 his hap- 
py spirit was dismissed to the enjoyment of its rest. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 237 

nand of fellowship, he addressed a short but most affec- 
tionate and solemn exhortation, admirably adapted to 
their respective ages, stations, and feelings.* Indeed, 
all the duties of the pastor's office were conducted by 
him with a propriety and an ease, which years of ex- 
perience are frequently unable to supply. With the 
unaffected simplicity of youth, he tempered the digni- 
ty of age— 'he seemed to be at once at home in the du- 

* At the church-meeting', with great emphasis, he gave out 
the following hymn, from Kelly's collection : 

RECEIVING A MEMBER. 

« COME in thou blessed of the Lord, 

Enter in Jesus 5 precious name ; 
We welcome thee with one accord, 

And trust the Saviour does the same.- 

Thy name, 'tis hop'd, already stands-, 

Mark'd in the book of life above : 
And now to thine we join our hands, 

In token of fraternal love. 

Those joys which earth cannot afford, 

We'll seek in fellowship to prove ; 
Join'd in one spirit to our Lord, 

Together bound by mutual love. 

And while we pass this vale of tears, 
We'll make our joys and sorrows known ; 

We'll share each other's hopes and fears, 
And count another's care our own. 

Once more our welcome we repeat ; 

Receive assurance of our love ; 
Oh ! may we all together meet 

Around the throne of God above." 



238 



MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 



ties of his new and important station — never embar- 
rassed or confused ; he appeared to have an intuitive 
perception of what belonged to his character and office, 
in every case as it arose ; and following the inward 
suggestion, he acquitted himself well, and discharged 
with undeviating consistency the high responsibilities 
he bore. 

After the meeting, Mr. Spencer spent the evening 
in serious conversation with a few friends 5 leading 
with great fervour the devotions of the family, and clo- 
sing a day of sacred duties, with uncommon calmness 
and placidity of mind. 

The following morning, Saturday, he spent in his 
study, in preparations for the pulpit. In the course of 
the day he wrote to a young lady, one of the number re- 
ceived, the preceding evening, into his church — at the 
close of the note he said,— < 

" I suppose you anticipate to-morrow with feelings 
of solemnity, you will appear in a new light to the 
church of Christ, and the spectators of our holy solem- 
nities ; we shall share to-morrow Zion's chief feast. 
May the blessing of the God of ordinances be upon us 
all. Wishing you the enjoyment of perfect health, and 
much communion with your best Friend, 
" I remain, &c. 

"THOMAS SPENCER." 



After dinner on the Saturday, the conversation turned 
upon a passage in Ezekiel — " I will cause you to pass 
under the rod, and I will bring you into the bond of the 
covenant ;" from which Mr. Spencer took occasion to 
speak much at large upon the nature and stability of 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 239 

the covenant of grace. In the evening he met the Rev. 
Messrs. Charrier, Lister, and Wray, the missionary, 
together with Mr. Laird, of Greenock and others, at 
the house of a friend. It was a pleasant interview, and 
in reflection has afforded to the persons who composed 
that social party the sincerest pleasure. To his most 
intimate friends, it is a source of much satisfaction, that 
his pastoral engagements that week were such as every 
day to bring him into their society—so that they had 
constant intercourse with their departed friend — and 
passing with him from house to house can look back 
and say, 'Did notour hearts burn within us while he 
talked to us by the way, and opened unto us the scrip- 

tures 7 Like the companion of Elijah, they walked 

with him in close connexion from spot to spot, charmed 
and edified with the holy strain of his discourse, and the 
rising lustre of his character ; but all unconscious, that 
whilst they were thus conversing with him upon earth, 
the chariot of IsraeWind the horsemen thereof were pre- 
paring to conduct him triumphantly to heaven. But 
the scene closes rapidly upon us. On the last Sabbath 
of his life, August 4th, he rose with unusual health and 
spirits. The family with whom he resided always be- 
held him with peculiar interest on the morning of the 
Sabbath, such an air of angelic mildness and composure 
sat upon his countenance — and so deeply did he seem 
absorbed in the contemplation of the sacred duties of 
the day. That morning he preached from Jer. xxxi. 
3 — •* I have loved thee with an everlasting love, there- 
fore with loving kindness have I drawn thee. 7 The 
way of his discussing the subject was simple and inter- 
esting : I have drawn thee — to the cross — to the throne 



240 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



—to the church — were the leading ideas in the dis- 
course. It was particularly adapted to the occasion, 
so many new members being that day added to the 
church. He afterwards administered the Lord's sup- 
per in a most solemn and affecting manner. Such as 
witnessed the scene — and the number of spectators 
was about three hundred — bear an unanimous testimo- 
ny to the deep solemnity by which it was characterized. 
His appeals to the conscience were so close and over- 
whelming—his invitations to the faint and weary were 
so pressing and tender — his countenance — his voice — 
his whole manner were so expressive of holy fervour, 
that every eye was fixed — every heart seemed moved. 
How long the impression will remain I cannot tell ; but 
the emotions enkindled by the transactions of that day 
are yet lively in the hearts of many — and numbers love 
to converse upon it, as one of those rare and highly fa- 
voured seasons, in which the distance between earth 
and heaven seems annihilated — aM so transporting is 
the joy, that whether in the body or out of the body, the 
happy Christian can scarcely tell ! To a friend, who 
afterwards hinted that he appeared to be very happy in 
prayer at the Lord's supper, he replied — " O yes ; I 
thought I could have prayed, and prayed, and mounted 
up to heaven !" At the close of that memorable ser- 
vice — one, the ardour of whose feelings age had check- 
ed, observed, that " Mr. Spencer seemed that morning 
twenty years older in experience than he really was." 
At dinner he mentioned to the family, that he had re- 
ceived that morning a letter from a friend in London 
who had been formerly reluctant to his settlement in 
Liverpool, as though it were not the sphere designed by 



MEMOIRS OF ,SPENCER. 241 

Providence for him. He then expressed the full con- 
viction of his own mind, that he was precisely where he 
ought to be — under such an impression, he observed, 
that he was perfectly satisfied and happy; and added 
" if it had not been the will of God, I should never have 
settled here." 

In the evening, in the midst of a throng, such as is 
rarely witnessed, and from which hundreds departed 
unable to gain access, he preached from Luke x. 42, 
; One thing is needful, and Mary hath chosen that good 
part which shall not be taken away from herS His 
chief object in this sermon was to shew, that communion 
with the Saviour is the one thing needful. Through- 
out the whole discourse, it seemed as if all the powers 
of his mind, all the ardour of his soul were infused into 
his composition, and his delivery. In the application, 
he was uncommonly urgent with the young — earnestly 
exhorting them to an immediate decision on the sjde 
of Christ — representing to them the folly and the danger 
of deferring the important concerns of salvation and 
eternity to an uncertain futurity — and assuring them, 
that very soon he should meet them at the bar of God, 
and that there he should be a swift witness against 
them. By those who are best able to decide, it was ob- 
served, that his last sermon was perhaps the most adapt- 
ed for usefulness of any he had preached — and this 
observation, which was made immediately after its de- 
livery, has been since most amply confirmed, in in- 
stances perpetually presenting themselves, in which 
that sermon proved instrumental in effecting the hap- 
piest impressions, many of which have issued in a saving 
diange. 



242 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

After the labours of the day he went to the house of 
a friend to supper ; he did not appear to be unusually 
fatigued. With great fervour he led the devotions of 
the family. He read a portion of scripture, and gave 
out the 165th hyuin of the 2d book. He was remark- 
ably copious and earnest in prayer — commending espe- 
cially to God — the family — the church — the members 
who had recently joined — the missionary, (who was pre- 
sent) and every object to which his holy and benevo- 
lent mind recurred. At supper the conversation was 
pure and spiritual — such as the book of remembrance 
in heaven preserves — such as will not easily be for- 
gotten upon earth. The subject was sudden death. 
The countenance of Spencer, always animated, was 
lighted up with holy joy as he discoursed upon the 
glory of departed saints — he seemed to realize the 
scenes he attempted to describe, whilst he expressed 
his own conceptions of the transport and surprise in 
which the disembodied spirit will be lost, when first 
admitted to the immediate presence of God. He spoke 
much upon the blessedness of putting off the garments 
of mortality in a moment, and being caught up unex- 
pectedly and instantaneously to heaven ! He seemed 
to lose the memory of the day's fatigue in the interesting 
theme, and frequently observed, that he had not for a 
long time felt himself so free from weariness. A little 
after eleven, he parted with his friends forever. Nev- 
er did they discover more of the warmth of his friend- 
ship, or the ardour of his piety, than in this last, happy 
interview. His countenance seemed eradiated with 
smiles of ineffable benignity — his whole deportment in- 
dicated a mind abstracted from the world, except so far 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 243 

as bound to it by the benevolent desire of doing good, 
and wholly devoted to communion and fellowship with 
God. So mature indeed did his character appear — so 
ripe did he seem for glory, that some of his friends could 
not but entertain a presentiment of his early removal. 
Though not then elevated to a higher sphere, he still 
appeared mysteriously weaned from earth. His loins 
were girt, and his lamp burning with unusual brightness, 
as though he expected the coming of his Lord. In its 
anticipations of future glory, his happy spirit seemed 
to try its pinions, preparatory to the glorious flight it 
was about to take. 

On Monday morning, August the 5th, the last day 
that dawned for him, he rose rather later than usual ; 
his mind was too active for his body ; the exhausted 
frame required rest. After breakfast, he received a 
visit from a young lady, one of the members lately ad- 
mitted into the church. He entered the room with a 
cheerful smile ; and the family having retired after 

some general conversation, he said, "Well, M , 

you are now a member of a Christian church ; yesterday 
you solemnly professed your faith in Christ, while the 
attention of many of our fellow creatures was fixed on 
you ; God also beheld your profession — all heaven and 
hell witnessed the solemnity." On her expressing 
some fears lest she should be unable to act consistently 
with the profession she had made, he replied, " Live 
near to Christ — be much in communion with your own 
heart — be very frequent in addresses at a throne of 
grace, and there is no fear of you." Then referring to 
the long and agonizing distress which he had suffered 
through the alarming indisposition of his dearest con- 



.344 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



aexions, and which seemed now happily removing, he 
said, " This severe affliction has not been sent, but for 
reasons the wisest and the best $ from it I have learned 
many lessons, and have enjoyed much of the presence 
of God under it. O may my heart be filled with grati- 
tude to Him who is the author of all our mercies." He 
frequently bathed ; he found it beneficial to his health. 
He purposed doing so that day, and had expressed his 
intention in the morning. He had just repeated the 
first verse of Cowper's admirable hymn, — 

a God moves in a mysterious way, 

His wonders to perform ; 
He plants his footsteps in the sea, 

And rides upon the storm/ 5 

when one of the family came into the room, and said, 
fnat if he intended bathing, it was time that he should 
go, as it would very soon be high water. He assented ; 
but whilst a towel was being procured! for him, he turn- 
ed to his young friend, and said, " I can't tell how it is, 
but I don't feel so much inclined to go, to day, as usual." 
She asked if it was thought good for his health — he an- 
wered "Yes, it will brace my nerves after the exertion 
of yesterday." And, indeed, he had an immediate ob- 
ject in view, for he had folded his paper, and prepared 
his pen, in order to compose a sermon to be preached 
in the course of the ensuing week, on behalf of the Reli- 
gious Tract Society, in London 5 and he was anxious 
that, by bathing, his mind might be invigorated for 
study, as he had frequently observed it to have that 
pleasing influence. Mr. Spencer and his friend left the 
house together, when turning towards the water, he 
Said," I must go this way." They parted. His friend 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 245 

sought again the bosom of her family — he went the way 
whence he never returned ! 

The following pages of this history must be filled 
with weeping, and lamentation, and wo. They must 
detail as sad a catastrophe as ever humanity or religion 
mourned. With cheerfulness Mr. Spencer took the 
path which leads across the fields towards the Hercu- 
laneum potteries, a little above which it was his design 
to bathe. The eye of his friend, beneath whose roof 
he dwelt, followed him till distance hid him from his 
sight. Arrived at the spot which he had selected, not 
so much from a knowledge of the ground, as from the 
circumstance of its retirement, he asked a gentleman, 
who had been bathing, and who then was dressing, " if 
that was a good place to bathe at ?" — he answered that 
it was, but that it was rather stony near the side, but 
better when further in. Mr. Spencer replied, " I rath- 
er think that it is a good place myself, and I don't like 
to bathe near the pottery, there are so many people." 
Mr. S. then asked again, " Is the tide nigh up ?" to 
which he was answered, "About half past eleven." 
" Oh ! dear," said Mr. Spencer, " it is near twelve." 
-—As this conversation passed, Mr. Spencer was un- 
dressing, and, at intervals, humming a tune. When 
undressed, he walked towards the water, and spoke to 
a workman belonging to the pottery, of the name of 
Potter, who also was bathing, and who directed him 
which way to come into the water. While walking in, 
Mr. Spencer observed, that it was very cold — to which 
Potter replied, " You will not find it so cold when in." 
Potter then plunged into the water about breast high, 
and when he next saw Mr. Spencer? he was swimming 

•it 



MG MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

within his depth, but soon afterwards the tide swept 
him round an abrupt projecting rock, where the water 
was from six to seven feet. Potter himself, who is an 
expert swimmer, soon found the current driving him 
round the same rock ; but he immediately, with diffi- 
culty, swam to the shore, when he looked about for Mr. 
Spencer, and, not seeing him, was much alarmed. At 
length, after the lapse of a minute or two, he saw the 
top of his head floating above the surface of the water. 
Potter could not tell whether he was amusing himself 
or drowning. He however cried out to him ; but re- 
ceiving no answer, plunged in again, and swam to the 
rock, in order to render him assistance — but found it 
impossible — Mr. Spencer having sunk in seven feet 
water, and the currents being remarkably strong. Pot- 
ter, with considerable trouble, and not till some time 
had elapsed, got up the side of the rock, and communi- 
cated the intelligence to Mr. Smith, of the potteries, 
who immediately ordered out two boats, which were 
directly manned and brought to the spot, when every 
exertion was made to find the body. 

I have frequently examined the place 5 indeed, I 
take a mournful pleasure in visiting the scene 5 and I 
have sought the opinions of medical gentlemen respect- 
ing the immediate cause of Mr. Spencer's death. The 
spot is most unfavourable for safe and pleasant bathing. 
Whoever sees it at low water, is astonished that any 
person, acquainted with the nature of the shore, should 
venture there. There is a ridge of sharp and slippery 
rock, running in a curved direction, for many yards, 
into the water, and terminating abruptly ; on either 
side of this most rugged ridge the fall is instantaneous. 



MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 247 

and from one to two feet It is highly probable, then, 
that Mr. S. swimming, as was described, along by the 
shore, might bring himself up immediately on the edge 
of this treacherous rock, which being slippery, deceiv- 
ed him, and by suddenly precipitating him into deeper 
water, caused a spasmodic fear — a combination of in- 
stantaneous terror and spasm, — which directly suspen- 
ded the functions of life, and he sunk, without further 
agitation or conflict, in the arms of death. 

* " So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky ; 
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, 
Through the dear might of him that walk'd the wares ; 
Where, other groves and other streams along, 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, 
And hears the unexpressrve nuptial song, 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
There entertain him all the saints above, 
In solemn troops and sweet societies, 
That sing, and, singing in their glory, move, 
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes." 

In the meanwhile, the gentleman whom Mr. Spencer 
first addressed, returned, and, discovering the sad 
event, apprized them that it was Mr. Spencer, the 
minister, who was lost. Potter renewed his exertions 
to find the body, assisted by the people in the boats, in 
which they at length succeeded, after it had been under 
water about fifty minutes. By this time the melan- 
choly tidings had spread abroad ; and happily some 
gentlemen of the faculty being in the neighbourhood^ 



248 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



and hearing of the event, hastened immediately to the 
spot, so that, ere the finding of the body, every thing 
was in readiness for instantly commencing the resus- 
citating process. 

When drawn from the water, the body exhibited no 
symptoms of violence or struggle in the act of dying — 
the countenance was placid and serene — its features 
were perfectly undisturbed, and so lovely was its ex- 
pression in death, that one of the medical attendants 
observed, — a painter could not desire a finer object! 

On the arrival of the body on the beach, the water 
was easily expelled, and being then wrapped up in 
flannel, it was immediately conveyed to the house of 
Mr. Smith, where, by the kind exertions of the family, 
every necessary arrangement had been made for its re- 
ception. 

The apparatus having arrived from Liverpool, and 
three medical gentlemen being present to receive the 
body, the usual methods adopted in cases of suspended 
animation were instantly pursued. They were soon 
joined by three other gentlemen of the faculty, who 
rendered every possible assistance ; every expedient 
was, in the course of the afternoon, resorted to— but 
alas in vain ! and at five o'clock, in the opinion of all 
present, there remained not the faintest hope of restoring 
animation — the spark of life was totally extinguished. 

Thus, in one sad moment, was lost to society and to 
the church of Christ, one of the loveliest of men — one 
of the most eloquent of ministers : upon whose lips, only 
the preceding day, hundreds had hung with delight, 
and the long continued and extended exertion of whose 
powers? in a larger sanctuary, the foundation of which- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 249 

he had but recently laid, thousands anticipated with 
eager desire ! To tell how many hearts have bled, be- 
neath this awful visitation, would require a fortitude 
which 1 do not possess — and constitute a volume, not 
surpassed, in the anguish which it would describe, by 
any similar catastrophe in the records of human wo. 
The tidings spread through the populous town of Liver- 
pool, with a rapidity, such as, in cases of public calami- 
ty, is usually inspired. They circulated through all 
ranks, and excited one common feeling of regret in 
every bosom. They reached the exchange, and produ- 
ced an extraordinary impression there; those who 
knew him, mourned the loss of one they loved — and 
those who knew him not, felt the agitation of that sud- 
den shock, which the premature removal of such men 
occasions — they participated in the general sympathy 
— and deplored the loss of Spencer, as an event de- 
manding general regret ! Numbers hastened to the spot. 
Some incredulous, to obtain the sad assurance of the 
truths— -and others to enjoy the mournful satisfaction of 
beholding that countenance in death, on which they had 
often gazed with transport, when kindled into radiance 
by the ardour of the soul that lately animated it. All 
was confusion and distress. Such a day has been sel- 
dom seen in Liverpool : a day of such dreadful gloom 
— such universal grief. From the countenance of every 
one, to whom the tidings came, one might have imagin- 
ed he had lost a friend ; — whilst many, to whom by 
intimate acquaintance he had become peculiarly endear- 
ed — petrified at first with mingled horror and surprise, 
when recollection and feeling returned, yielded, fpr 
awhile, to the influence of the deepest sorrow. 



250 MEMOIRS OP SPENCER. 

The estimation in which Mr. Spencer was held in 
Liverpool was most decidedly marked after his decease. 
The public prints severally bore testimony to his 
worth, and pronounced a warm, but just eulogium on 
his extraordinary merits : the introduction of some ex- 
tracts will not be unsuitable here. 

" Mr. Spencer was about twenty years of age ; in his 
person and countenance eminently prepossessing ; and 
of manners most amiable, conciliating, and engaging. 
As a preacher, his talents were held in a degree of 
estimation, and possessed an extent of influence, which 
have seldom been equalled in the annals of pulpit elo- 
quence. His discourses were rather persuasive and 
hortatory, than argumentative or disquisitive : they 
were addressed more to the imagination and affections, 
than to the judgment; and this, apparently, not so 
much from any deficiency of talent, as from a firm 
persuasion, that, in matters of religion, the avenues to 
the understanding are chiefly to be sought in the heart. 
His sermons, thus constituted, were adorned with a feli- 
city of expression, and delivered in an unremitted flu- 
ency of language, altogether surprising in extempo- 
raneous discourses. These essential qualities of elo- 
quence were assisted by an uncommonly distinct artic- 
ulation, a tone of voice singularly melodious, and great 
gracefulness of action. Thus gifted by nature, and 
improved by cultivation, it is not surprising that he 
possessed the power of attaching an audience, in a 
manner that will never be forgotten by those who at- 
tended his ministry. Perhaps it scarcely ever before 
fell to the lot of any individual, at so early an age, to 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. £51 

have diffused religious impression through so extensive 
a circle of hearers ; and those who looked forward to 
the maturity of his powers, with the hope naturally in- 
spired by his early excellence, will regard his loss as 
a public misfortune." 

" The deceased was about twenty years of age, a 
youth of amiable and engaging manners ; and his pulpit 
talents were so far above his years, as to obtain for 
him a large share of public admiration and popularity. 
His premature death has most deeply affected the feel- 
ings of his numerous friends, who looked forward to 
the maturity of his early powers, with the highest hope 
of obtaining in him a most valuable accession to the dis- 
senting ministry." 

But at the solemnities of interment, the strongest 
demonstration of public feeling was afforded. The 
concourse of people assembled to witness or assist in 
the last sad token of respect to his remains was never, 
perhaps, equalled in Liverpool. Religion, Humanity, 
Friendship, and Genius, mingled their tears at his 
grave. The funeral took place on Tuesday, the 13th 
August, 1811 : The procession moved from the Park 
about eleven in the morning, in the following order : — 

The Gentlemen of the Faculty ; 
Ministers, four abreast ; 

Cfje QBotig, 

The Pall supported by ten Ministers, five on each side; 

The Mourners ; 

Friends of the deceased, 

To the number of One Himdred and Thirty, 

With white hat-bands and gloves, 

Six abreast. 



352 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

All the streets through which the procession passed 
were crowded to excess, as also were the windows and 
balconies of the houses. But the greatest decorum 
was observed — and a seriousness, according with the 
solemn occasion, was manifested by all. The corpse 
was borne into the chapel, late the scene of Mr. Spen- 
cer's labours, and the Rev. Mr. Charrier, of Bethesda 
chapel, read part of the 15th chapter of 1st of Corin- 
thians, and the 4th and 5th of the 1st of Thessalonians, 
and offered a most solemn prayer. At the grave an 
eloquent and impressive oration was delivered by the 
Rev. Joseph Fletcher, A. M. of Blackburn. The 
mournful service was concluded by a prayer from the 
Rev. Mr. Lister, of Lime street chapel. 

" The whole scene," a Liverpool journal observes, 
<; was affecting — it could not be otherwise. Every 
idea which could be associated with the spectacle was 
such as to excite the deepest sympathy. The flower 
of yOuth, scarcely opened, snatched from the stem of 
life by a sudden and rude attack of mortality : a min- 
ister, who lately fixed the attention of crowded audien- 
ces by the power of his eloquence, conveyed to the 
house of silence and darkness; the fairest prospects of 
honour and usefulness in life blasted ; the warm hopes 
of his friends wrecked in a moment ; and the deep, the 
dreadful wound inflicted in the feelings of relatives, 
and the dearest connexions. Such, however, are the 
appointments of a supreme governing Intelligence, to 
which human choice and wishes must bow with rever- 
ence, supported by the general principle of the justice, 
wisdom, and benevolence, which direct the affairs of 
men. Similar afflictions are of frequent occurrence in 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 253 

private life, though they there pass unnoticed. Public 
characters excite attention both in their zenith and fall ; 
and so far as society is bereft of virtue, useful talents, 
and active zeal, their death is a public calamity." 

On the following Sunday evening, a funeral sermon 
was preached at Newington Chapel, by the Rev. Wil- 
liam Hoby, of Manchester, from Heb. xiii. 7, 8, ' Re* 
member them ivho have the rule over you, who have 
spoken unto you the word of God ; whose faith follow, 
considering tJie end of their conversation : Jesus Christ, 
the. same yesterday, and to-day, and for ever, 9 This 
sermon, so admirably adapted to sooth the discon- 
solate congregation to whom it was addressed, has 
been presented to them, by its respected author, from 
the press. 

But not in Liverpool alone was the shock of Mr. 
Spencer's death felt — or the loss occasioned by his 
sudden removal deplored. Scarcely was there a dis- 
trict in Britain to which the melancholy tidings did 
not reach. The universal esteem in which the beloved 
youth was held, was manifested by the numerous ser- 
mons which were preached throughout the country, to 
embalm his memory, and to improve his death. In 
London several were delivered, — many singularly elo- 
quent and appropriate ; several have issued from the 
press, and have been noticed in the preceding pages. 
The sympathy awakened for the mourning church, 
was as general as the regret occasioned by their pas- 
tor's death. Of Spencer it may be truly said, ' devout 
men carried him to his burial, and made great lament- 
ation over him,'' whilst the situation of his bereaved 
22 



^54 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

people, excited in every bosom compassion andgrief> 
"for they were left as sheep without a shepherd? 

It now remains that I present the reader with a 
general sketch of Mr. Spencer's character. The op- 
portunity afforded in such works as these, of illustra- 
ting great and important principles, in their influence 
upon human conduct, ought to be seized with avidity, 
and improved with care. In this respect Biography 
is particularly valuable, and possesses a considerable 
advantage over general history. The subjects and 
characters of general history are numerous, complica- 
ted, and often but indistinctly seen — here the object 
is single. The mind dwells, without diversion or dis- 
traction, on the character presented to its contemplation. 
Being relieved from the toil which variety occasions, 
it has leisure to dwell upon its several features, and to 
observe their mutual influence or associated harmony. 
The scenes and events of an individual's life, when 
faithfully and judiciously recorded, are admirably 
adapted to develope the formation of character — whilst 
lessons of wisdom, and principles of action are better 
understood and more correctly appreciated, when 
drawn out in the scenes of actual life, than they possi- 
bly can be, when simply, and abstractedly delivered. 
And, moreover, the peculiar sentiments which the de- 
lineation of certain characters is especially calculated 
to illustrate, are better remembered, when associated 
with names, with places, and with deeds ; whilst they 
make a far deeper impression upon the heart, from the 
circumstance that their nature and tendency are at 
once demonstrated, by the actual consequences to 
which ? in these individual cases, they have led. In the 



5IEM0IRS OF SPENCER. £55 

pages of the biographer, the man lives again for us. 
»• Being dead he yet speaketh." We are put in pos- 
session, in an hour or two, of knowledge, which it cost 
him years of anxious labour to acquire. We obtain 
confidence — we awake to an honourable ambition—we 
feel the animating influence of hope, whilst we mark the 
excellencies of his character, and the successful labours 
of his life. Self-examination is induced, by a contem- 
plation of his failings — and caution, by the disclosure 
of his errors. Humility is promoted, by observing with 
how much imperfection the noblest and the loveliest qual- 
ities in man are unhappily combined — and the provision 
which the gospel makes for our final acceptance with 
God, derives importance and value from the assur- 
ance, which every faithful piece of biography must tend 
to establish, — that the purest character— the fairest life, 
must sink before the high standard and demands of 
Jehovah's perfect law. 

In calling the attention of my readers to views of 
Mr. Spencer's character, I am aware that the objec- 
tion may be started — that in one so young, a charac- 
ter could hardly be formed at all. The objection is 
founded in reason. But although his character had 
not obtained its maturity — or assumed those fixed and 
established habits, with which years and experience 
would have invested it — still it had arrived at such a 
stage of its progress, as already to present strong lines, 
and obvious features. Some, so deeply marked as to be 
recognised by all who knew him — and others, upon the 
infancy of which, the eyes of his most intimate associ- 
ates dwelt, with unspeakable delight. And, young as 
it was, the character of Spencer at the age of twenty* 



25Q 



Memoirs of spencer. 



was such, as even an aged Christian might not blush 
to own. I have often gazed, with pleasure, on the 
animating picture which my fancy drew, when it has 
added years of experience and of culture, to what was 
the character of Spencer at his death, and imaged 
to itself what, after the lapse of time, that character 
might possibly have been ; and when recalled from 
the delightful reverie, I have mourned that the love- 
ly object existed only in my fancy. But we do wrong 
to mourn. His removal from our world was the dic- 
tate alike of Infinite Wisdom and Love. And the 
time appointed for his departure was the best. His 
character had attained that degree of maturity, for 
which God had destined it, on earth — he had perform- 
ed the service which he was called to accomplish in 
the church. His sun rose with almost unexampled ra- 
pidity to its meridian — his work was completed with 
prodigious speed- — yet, having reached his appointed 
elevation, and performed his allotted labour — that was 
the suitable period for his removal. He had witnessed 
as much impression and effect, in his short ministry as 
many an aged pastor would rejoice to observe, after 
years of incessant toil. Can his death be considered 
then, as premature ? If one labourer accomplishes his 
sliare of the day's exertion an hour or two earlier than 
his companions, may he not be permitted to retire to 
his rest before them ? — Spencer has finished his course 
— he rests from his labours — and his works do follow 
him. 

AS A MAN, 
He was generous — frank — independent, — unaf- 






FE CTED UNSUSPECTING and SINCERE.- 



■Gener- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 9.57 

oiis ; his heart, his hand, and his purse, were ever 
at the service of the needy, and cheerfully devoted to 
the cause of Christ. An instance of his generosity has 
been recorded in the preceding narrative — that of 
his usually adding to the collection, when he preached 
for the benefit of a poor church that had an aged min- 
ister. One of the last acts of his life was an act of 
benevolence 5 he had no money about him, at the time 
of his death, for he had emptied his pockets to a poor 
person, previous to his leaving the house on the morn- 
ing of that awful day. Had he lived to be the posses- 
sor of a house, and the head of a family, from him the 
apostolic injunction, ; given to hospitality,' would have 
met with a spontaneous acquiescence. Unhappily, 
this qualification of a Christian bishop, some of our 
worthy pastors have it not in their power to display ! 
Frank ; he was open and ingenuous ; his senti- 
ments were ever undisguised 5 his language spoke cor- 
rectly what he thought and felt ; and his countenance 
was an index to his mind. Truly was it said of him, 
that he carried his heart in a crystal vase, so that all 
could see it. His opinions he never attempted to con- 
ceal ; his attachments and his dislikes were, with equal 
freedom and sincerity, declared. The prudent will 
say, it displayed but little knowledge of mankind; 
true : he was ignorant, and therefore unsuspecting, and 
often unguarded. He did not calculate upon treach- 
ery, under the garb of friendship — or censorious obser- 
vation, in the social circle. Alas! that experience 
should only tend to make a man suspicious, and inter- 
course with society render him sceptical in his opinions 
of his fellow men ! Independent ; perhaps, too much so, 
*22 



25b MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER. 

for his station as a minister of the gospel, and especial- 
ly as the pastor of a church. He had his partialities 
and predilections, — every man must have them — he 
cannot be brought, by any discipline, to love that which 
is totally uncongenial to his taste and habits, however 
lie may be inclined to cherish and testify a deference 
and respect. But these predilections, Spencer was 
ever ready to declare 5 and such was his independent 
spirit, that no consideration of interest could induce 
him to utter a compliment or pay an attention which 
was foreign from his purpose, or repugnant to his feelings. 
To all, he cheerfully paid the regard which the obliga- 
tions of his station claimed ; but only with such as his 
heart and feelings approved, did he share the social 
intercourse, or the endearments of friendship. And, 
surely, a man in public life, whilst he pays to all 
around him such attentions as the functions of his of- 
fice involve, has a right to select the individuals with 
whom he will share the social hour, or to whom he may 
commit the more sacred and retired feelings of his heart. 
Yet, even here, prudence would suggest certain cau- 
tions, particularly adapted to the very delicate circum- 
stances in which the pastor of a church is placed. 

Unaffected $ every thing like affectation and display, 
he abhorred — every thing feminine and soft in man- 
ners, he excessively disliked. His own were the re- 
verse ; they were characterized by impetuosity and bold- 
ness — a decision and a promptitude marked every thing 
he did. There was often a carelessness about his dress, 
arising from that indifference to shew and decoration, 
which, in every thing, he displayed. So neglectful 
was he of his appearance, that he did not wear a watch. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 259 

till urged repeatedly by the want of it, he at length 
purchased one. He observed to a friend a circum- 
stance connected with the purchase of this watch, not 
perhaps unworthy of insertion. He asked the man of 
whom he bought the watch, if what he demanded was 
his lowest price ? " Yes, Sir," said the man ; " I heard 
you preach upon seeing Abraham, and Isaac, and Ja- 
cob, in the kingdom of God, and I will not overcharge 
you." He loved to preach in a gown ; it tended, he 
said, to conceal his youth, and give weight to his ser- 
mon, — otherwise he was indifferent about it. How far 
this may be considered as sufficient reason for wearing 
a gown, I cannot determine ; certainly, there are mat- 
ters of higher moment than this ; and it is surely cause 
of regret, that great and good men should ever grow 
warm, and say or do strong things, upon a subject, con- 
fessedly so inferior in importance. — Unsuspecting — he 
formed an estimate of every individual's bosom by the 
ingenuousness of his own ; no wonder then, if some 
times he should have erred, and the error prove a 
source of poignant anguish and unavailing regret. He 
who has never seen a storm, may, all unconscious of 
his danger, trust the syren sea 5 but he who has endur- 
ed the tempest will mark well the signs of the sky, 
ere he tempt the treacherous element that has once de- 
ceived. Sincere ; to have his hand, was to possess 

his heart 5 and where he could not give the latter, he 
never presented the former. Whatever he said, he 
uttered from conviction 5 and on every assurance, the 
firmest reliance might be placed. 
AS A FRIEND, 

He was warm — disinterested' — and affectionate. 



£60 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

The fervour of his friendship is sufficiently display- 
ed in the correspondence preserved in the preceding 
pages. His whole soul seems infused into his paper ; 
and, if such were his letters, happy must they esteem 
themselves who were favoured with his private walks 
and most retired intercourse. " His friendship, I can 
truly say," observes his most intimate companion, 
" has given me one of the most lively views that I ev- 
er enjoyed of union and communion with the spirits of 
just men made perfect. — I shall not easily forget the 
impression of awe upon my mind while hearing him 
preach at White's Row, from these words : — ; Because 
there is wrath, beware lest he take thee away at a 
stroke, then , a great ransom cannot deliver thee. 9 I 
thought, I surely can never more use the freedom of 
friendship with him. But at his descent from the pul- 
pit, his sparkling eye, his friendly squeeze, and affec- 
tionate pressure of my arm to his side as we returned, 
convinced me that he was still the humble, interesting 
youth with whom I had taken sweet counsel, and walk- 
ed to that house of God." Nor was he guided in 
the formation of his friendships by a principle of in- 
terest. This indeed governs the world in their asso- 
ciations :— 

" And what is friendship but a name, 

A charm that lulls to sleep, 
A shade that follows wealth or fame, 

But leaves the wretch to weep." 

But he sought not high connexions — exalted friend- 
ships — or splendid alliances — he shrunk from gran- 
deur, pomp, and parade— he felt uneasy when surroun- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 261 

ded by any thing like splendour — he preferred the 
calm mediocrity of life, as furnishing, for the most 
part, excellence in character, and comfort in inter- 
course ! Of his affection, it were in vain to speak 

— no language can describe all the tenderness of his 
nffectionate heart — affection the purest and most refi- 
ned. The following is the testimony of one who deep- 
ly participated in it : — 

" And surely I may experimentally say, that a more 
affectionate spirit than that of Spencer never anima- 
ted a fallen son of Adam. When we first met he un- 
bosomed himself, freely claimed my friendship, with 
an affection that overpowered me, and entreated the 
fidelity of friendship, charging me to watch him nar- 
rowly, and point out every imperfection. If ever the 
delightful scene recorded 1 Samuel xviii. 1, was re- 
iterated, (and doubtless it often has been) it was when 
Spencer had made an end of speaking. But proofs of 
the affection of Spencer's heart are totally unnecessary. 
I shall mention one only. Soon after we became ac- 
quainted, he used to call generally on a Saturday eve- 
ning — ' Well, where shall you be to-morrow ? with 
Mr. Foster, I suppose.' ' W r hy, I suppose so too, un- 
less you draw me away.' 6 1 am sure I should be sor- 
ry to draw you away, if you do not see it right : I am 
sure you must be a loser by hearing me instead of Mr. 
Foster : yet if you could see it right, I should be very 
glad.' When he preached in the country, he used, he 
said, to look round for a retired corner for me, such 
as I should like, if there. At Hoxton, he pointed out 
a seat for me, and when he rose from prayer, used to 
see if I filled it." 






MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



AS A STUDENT, 

He was diligent — conscientious — and success- 
ful. — Diligent ; to a habit of study he had been in- 
ured almost from his infancy — the elements of knowl- 
edge he obtained under peculiar difficulty—rand had 
he not been inspired by an ardent love of that sacred 
work, for the honourable discharge of which, he deem- 
ed the acquisition of human learning necessary, his 
name would probably never have been known beyond 
the circles of his native town. But he longed for the 
acquisition of knowledge, not from a principle of self- 
gratification, or the love of fame, but as an auxiliary 
to his great design. Impelled by such a powerful 
principle, he sought for it with unceasing avidity — and 
laboured in its pursuit with unconquerable ardour. 
But it was his lot to meet with a continued chain of 
obstacles to the free and ample gratification of his taste 
for learning. In his childhood, the circumstances of 
his family were inauspicious, and he was compelled, 
at a period when the powers of his mind were unfold- 
ing, to devote those hours to manual labour, which he 
would have gladly consecrated to books. The year he 
spent at Harwich was the only year of uninterrupted 
study he enjoyed 5 for very soon after his entrance 
into Hoxton Academy he began to preach — and then, 
his popularity formed a most serious and insurmounta- 
ble barrier — whilst, after his settlement in the min- 
istry, the important duties of his new and extensive 
sphere of action forbad the indulgence of any pursuits 
in private, but such as bore immediately upon his pub- 
He work. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 26S 

These circumstances, however, taught him the val- 
ue of retirement, and instructed him in the happy art 
of husbanding his time. This art he cultivated with 
conscientious care — and whoever contemplates the 
numerous papers he has left behind, and compares 
them with the public engagements he performed, must 
be sensibly impressed with a conviction of his dili- 
gence. He never entered the pulpit without previous 
preparation. Most of his sermons were written 
throughout, except the heads of application, in which 
he usually trusted to the ardour of his mind, enkindled 
by the subject which he had discussed, and guided by 
a holy influence. Not that he slavishly committed his 
compositions to his memory, and delivered them by 
rote. For, although his discourses were thus precom- 
posed, and numbers of them remain, yet not one con- 
veys a correct idea of what his preaching actually was. 
The reason is, that in the pulpit he followed, not so 
much the impression of his written language on the 
memory, as the holy and ardent bias of his soul, flow- 
ing in the channel which he had previously prepared. 
The sermon in the study was completely formed — cor- 
rectly arranged— and well connected—but to the life- 
less form, delineated on his paper, and impressed upon 
his memory, in the pulpit he imparted a living soul ; a 
principle of ardent piety, which operated as a charm, 
the power of which few were able to resist. 

Indeed so uniform was his habit of preparation for 
the pulpit, that when called upon suddenly to address 
some young persons, he said to a friend, " I wish you 
would address the children for me this afternoon ; I 
have not prepared any thing — I have not considered a 



264 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



subject for them, and I would not offer, even to a 
child, that which cost me nothing." 

But although this was his usual custom, yet, when 
extraordinary circumstances conspire to render a de- 
parture from it necessary, he could, with the greatest 
propriety and ease, delight and interest an audience 
from the rich treasures of his exalted mind. One in- 
stance of his powers, in extemporary and unpremedi- 
tated address, is related of him in Liverpool. Some 
important affair of a public nature engaged the general 
attention of the religious world, on a Sabbath evening, 
when as usual he had to preach ; and, anticipating a 
thin attendance, he had prepared a sermon adapted to 
the supposed state of his auditory — but, when he 
reached the chapel, and saw it filled with anxious 
crowds, waiting to receive from his lips the words of 
life — his ardent mind seemed instantly inspired — he 
immediately fixed upon a passage more adapted to the 
scene, and with his pencil sketched the outline of a 
discourse, which, perhaps, in the whole series of his 
ministry, he never excelled. 

But Mr. Spencer's diligence did not expend itself 
on commentators and elaborate pulpit compositions — 
he endeavoured to study Providence — to improve 
events — and, so far as he had opportunity, to read man- 
kind. His sentiments on this subject may be in the 
recollection of the reader.* I believe he uniformly 
acted in accordance with them , and especially had an 
opportunity of doing tins when he became the pastor 
of a church. The propriety — the importance — the util- 
ity of this kind of study, to a minister, is too obvious 

* Seepage 164* 



MEMOIRS OF SPENOER. 2&5 

to need discussion. To its aid maybe attributed, in 
a great measure, that adaptation to the ever varying 
scenes of the Christian life, which the sermons of 
Spencer usually possessed. He studied the charac- 
ters of the people of God — he marked with care the 
variations of their experience — the alternation of their 
feelings — and the vicissitudes of their enjoyment. In- 
deed, his knowledge in this respect was most amazing, 
especially in one so young. He seemed to know, and 
sweetly to divulge, what every Christian felt and 
mourned— -and he had a balm of consolation for every 
sorrow he awakened — every wound he probed — As a 
student he was 

Conscientious. He was so, in maintaining a habit 
of study, after the restraints of the college were with- 
drawn. Too many imagine, that what is improperly 
called, finishing their studies — that is, concluding their 
academic course, is in fact the legitimate close of all 
mental labour. Upon the stores then acquired, they 
are to feed, through the long years of an extended 
ministry, the church of God with wisdom and knowl- 
edge. Alas ! for the people over whom " such a pas- 
tor presides. The stores of that mind must be but 
scanty at the best, and soon expended ; what then but 
mental and spiritual famine must ensue. Ill does it 
bode for a congregation, when their minister is a lover 
of pleasure — a lover of society— a lover of mirth — 
more than a lover of study. People should remem- 
ber this, and should act accordingly. They love to 
have things brought from the sacred treasury before 
them, new as well as old — but the new cannot be ob- 
tained without research, nor the old presented, in an 
S3 



266 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



attractive form, without thought. To all this, time, 
and that no scanty portion, must be devoted. And 
the hours of study must be taken either from the day, 
or from the night — if from the night, it impairs the 
health — if from the day, it must abridge them of their 
minister's society. A congregation, then, cannot 
with justice expect to see their pastor always in their 
social circles, and yet demand from him on the Sab- 
bath, what much and intense application only can ena- 
ble him to produce. A minister worthy of his people's 
affection cannot be too much esteemed, nor his society 
too highly valued — but even this authorized attachment 
may be carried to an injurious length — a people may 
desire too much — 'God may gratify their wish — he may 
send them a busy body in the form, and with the pre- 
tensions of a minister — and it may be said of them, 
• he gave them their request, but sent leanness into their 
souV For an unoccupied study, must cause, eventu- 
ally, an empty mind. 

Mr. Spencer was conscientious in the direction 
ivhich he gave to his studies. Aware that he had but 
little time for preparatory labour, and a mighty work 
before him, we have already seen, that at Hoxton, 
whilst he performed with cheerfulness and credit the 
duties of his class, in the various departments of liter- 
ature and science, yet he consecrated the first and 
most constant exercises of his mind to such studies as 
were immediately connected with preaching, and the 
pastoral office.* And when actually embarked in his 
most arduous profession, the little time he could pro- 
cure for study he found too precious for the pursuit of 



See page 98, 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 267 

any object whose claims, in connection with the min- 
istry, might hold but a secondary rank. Hence he pur- 
sued not so much the study of general literature, as that 
of Theology. Aware that the sources of this sacred 
science, are the holy scriptures, and that to understand 
them correctly, requires an accurate knowledge of 
their original languages, he cultivated with great care, 
the study of the Hebrew and the Greek. To the for- 
mer of these tongues he was peculiarly attached— his 
early labours in it have been already stated,* and I be- 
lieve that his proficiency bore a just proportion to his ex- 
ertions. On Theology he read very extensively, and for 
the most part the productions of the puritan divines. 
His library was small — it was but in its infancy ; but 
it was well chosen. His study, which remained pre- 
cisely in the state in which he left it on the morning of 
his death, was an object of considerable curiosity to 
the inhabitants and visitors of Liverpool : many judi- 
cious and venerable ministers came to see it, and all 
expressed their admiration of the taste which he dis- 
played in the selection of his books. There was 
scarcely a volume that did not bear most obviously 
on the work of the ministry. The cast of a man's 
mind may be gathered from an inspection of his libra- 
ry, if the volumes composing it have been of his own 
selection. Whoever should form an estimate of Spen- 
cer's character from his books, must pronounce him 
a sound and well informed divine. 

As a student he was successful. If a man may be 
deemed successful who accomplishes what he propo- 
ses to himself, he certainly was so. He never desired 

* See page 25. 



368 3IEM0IRS OF SPENCER, 

to be a profound mathematician — an acute philoso- 
pher—or an accomplished classic — but a useful preach- 
er — a good divine. As a preacher, few could compare 
with him — as a divine, he surpassed most of his con- 
temporaries, of the same age and standing. But his 
attainments in classical literature were far from being 
scanty ; that he had read the best Greek and Roman 
authors, with considerable advantage, was obvious 
from the purity and elegance of his style. And in 
the perusal of those English writers, most justly cele- 
brated for the correctness of their reasoning, and the 
chasteness of their composition — he was well trained, 
whilst under the tuition of his excellent and revered 
friend at Harwich. Upon most subjects he was well 
informed, and could converse with ease. He disliked 
controversy, at any rate in public, however he might 
be disposed to try his strength in private. His chief 
excellence did not lie in the power of conducting a 
deep, an intricate, and long continued process of rea- 
soning to a triumphant close. He rather excelled in 
clearly unfolding the more prominent features of the 
gospel — in stating with correctness the great truths of 
Christianity, and supporting them by arguments pure- 
ly scriptural — for such discussions he was amply fur- 
nished. His knowledge of the Bible was most exten- 
sive, and his quotations from it were, in general, re- 
markably apt and striking. But it was in prayer, 
chiefly, that his familiarity with the Bible was obser- 
ved. Not a sentiment escaped him, for which he had 
not suitable language borrowed from the scriptures : 
and this rendered his prayers peculiarly rich, simple, 
and appropriate. 



I 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, £69 

Of elegant accomplishments he possessed but little. 
I believe he never touched the pencil. He was fond of 
music, but he used no instrument, and though perpet- 
ually humming tunes to favourite hymns, he was not a 
good singer. He was much devoted to the love of 
poetry, especially that of Milton, Young, Cowper, and 
Kirk White. He was exceedingly attached to Kelly's 
hymns, and frequently repeated from them, with great 
fervour and delight. When a boy he courted the muse 
himself, but not with much success. Though not dis- 
ciplined in the schools of fashionable life, his manners 
were easy, and his action graceful ; and these, added 
to a lovely countenance, and an elegant form, render- 
ed him interesting, both in his public engagements and 
in his private intercourse. 

AS A CHRISTIAN, 
He was fervent — holy — and humble — Fervent; 
his piety was the ardour of an unquenchable flame. 
With him religion was no matter of mere profession 
and convenience ; nor did it lose its impression by the 
frequent recurrence of its subjects and its duties — he 
seemed to live under its abiding influence — it was 
wrought into the constitution of his nature — its prin- 
ciples were the springs — its precepts the rule — its ob- 
jects the end of all his actions. To this he ever had 
respect — what opposed it he heartily abhorred — what 
clashed with it he cheerfully resigned — what injured it 
he conscientiously avoided. His love to God was ar- 
dent. In this I think he much resembled Mr. Pearce, 
of Birmingham 5 and, indeed, often, when contempla- 
ting the life of Spencer, my thoughts have involunta- 
rily recurred to certain traits of character preserved in 






£ro 



MEMOIRS OF SPENOER. 



the memoirs of that glorified saint.* His love to God 
shed a glorious lustre on his whole character and con- 
duct ; every thing that came within the sphere of his 
influence or operation was irradiated by it. But chief- 
ly would I confine myself now to the influence of this 
noble principle upon himself. It inspired him with a 
love of piety : as a Christian lie was eminent for 

Holiness. He contemplated the character of God, 
and was attracted to it by its purity. " I shall not," 
says his friend, " easily forget the delight which spark- 
led in his eye when conversing upon the divine attri- 
bute — holiness. 'How sweet,' said he, ' is that word 
holy ! — holy Father — holy Saviour — holy Spirit — holy 
scriptures. Surely if there is one word dearer to me 
than another, it is the word holy." During his resi- 
dence at Hoxton, the same friend observed to a stu- 
dent in the institution, whose attention he wished to di- 
rect to the character of Spencer, " Perhaps you per- 
ceive youthful levity in him ?" "No,' ? he replied," I 
have remarked him particularly, but it was for his 'spir- 
ituality.'* 

His ardent love of holiness enkindled and cherished 
in his bosom a corresponding hatred to sin; and so 
strong was this principle of love to God, that the dread 
of offending his purity sometimes amounted almost to 
terror, and enveloped his mind in most distressing 
gloom. A paper composed at one of these melancholy 
seasons of depression has been recently discovered ; it 
is entitled, 

* See Memoirs of the Rev. Samuel Pearce, A. M. with ex- 
tracts from some of his most interesting letters, by Andrew 
Fiulen 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCEK, 271 

" Miserable ills under which I daily groan." 

BODILY. 

An incessant bilious complaint. 
General langour, nervous feeling, and head-ache. 
The fatigues of my great and repeated exertions in 
preaching. 

MENTAL. 

The illness of 

The awful weight of responsibility attaching to the 
ministerial work. 

The extreme distance between myself and my old, 
choice, and invaluable friends. 

The impossibility I discover of visiting all the people 
I wish. 

The little time I can appropriate to study. 

The dreadful state of coldness and formality' in reli- 
gion, which I know the eternal God sees in me, and 
which, I fear, he hates me for. 

The dread I often feel, lest, after all, I should dwell 
forever in Hell Fire ! 

Oh ! God, who is sufficient for these things ? Oh ! cast 
me not away from thy presence — take not thy Holy 
Spirit from me. Oh ! God be merciful to me a 
guilty and a wretched sinner. Be it so — for Christ's 
sake. Amen. 

Monday Evening, May 27, 1811. 

But this was not the usual tone of his mind. Few 
there are so highly favoured but that, sometimes, they 



973 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



are called to walk in darkness. The same apostle 
who declares at one period, J know whom I have be- 
lieved, and am persuaded that he is able to keep what I 
have committed unto him until that day ; at another 
cries, O wretched man that I am, Sfc. and again, Lest, 
after having preached unto others, I myself should be a 
cast away. This document is a commentary on a pas- 
sage in one of Spencer's letters : — " Be assured that 
I as well as yourself have walked in darkness* and 
complained that there was no light. Fluctuations in 
experience are, I am sure, my lot, &c."* He was 

Humble. For abundant evidence of the truth of 
this assertion, I need only appeal to his correspond- 
ence, his conversation, and his conduct; they each 
demonstrate that he walked humbly wjth his God. In- 
deed so prominent a feature in his character was hu- 
mility, that his ministry derived from this prolific 
source a considerable portion of its excellence. " For," 
as a friend observed, " Ms deep humility and self-de- 
basement leading him wholly to distrust himself, his 
affections ascended continually to the Saviour, and 
brought down that abundant supply of spirituality 
which animated both his sermons and his life."' 

A minister one day unguardedly said to him, " Mr. 
Spencer, I have been reading of your fame." " My 
fame, Sir." " Yes ; I have been reading in one of the 
public prints, that the Rev. Thomas Spencer has been 
preaching several eloquent and impressive sermons 
at Brighton; and if you will call at my house I will 
shew you the newspaper." Spencer declined going ; 
and his remarks afterwards were worthy of himself. 

* Page 151. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. &73 

* I am strongly pressed to visit Mr. ," said he ; 

" I cannot ; his circumstances are so much above mine, 
that it would be dangerous for me. If I get a habit 
of visiting the rich, I shall neglect the poor, and my 
expectation of usefulness lies among them," 

His humility led him early to solicit, and highly to 
value the fidelity of friendship. As he had a deep 
and intimate acquaintance with his own heart, he knew 
and deplored its corruptions 5 and turned with con- 
tempt from those professed and dangerous friendships, 
which only tend to feed the flame he was anxious to 
stifle and subdue. No friend of his was ever more 

faithful to him than Mr. B ; and few persons were 

more highly esteemed by him. Speaking of that gen- 
tleman, he said, " I owe him particular respect, and I 
wish to shew it." 

There was one instance in which his late attend- 
ance at a place of worship, where he was to preach, 
was unhandsomely attributed to pride. " He takes 
liberties," said they, " because he is popular." Let 
not his memory suffer by such an imputation. It is 
in my power to roll away from the character of our 
departed friend this cloud. It was his attention to the 
duties of the closet, and not his pride, which caused 
his late attendance that day. It has been already ob- 
served, that he always went from his closet to the 
pulpit. On that day he allowed himself the proper 
time for retirement, intending to take a coach from 
the city, where he dined, to Walworth, where he was 
to preach. But a sudden fall of snow engaged every 
conveyance, and he was obliged to walk 5 the distance 
was considerable, and the consequence was, he was 



274 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



too late. When an error in the conduct of a minister 
is committed, reasons are easily assigned, and unhap- 
pily those the most uncharitable come the readiest to 
hand; and few have sufficient generosity or justice to 
inquire whether that which they have chosen is correct 
or not.* 

The following extract of a letter, dated July 3, 
1810, shall close this part of our review of Spencer's 
character. It was addressed to one who feared that 
his popularity might have an unhappy influence upon 
his mind : 

" A thousand thanks for the solicitude you express 
for my safety in the midst of the snares and dangers 
which appear to you to surround me ; never may I be 
so left as to lose the dignity of the Christian, much 
more of the Ministerial character, by being pleased 
with so empty a nothing as popular applause ; I cannot 
but recollect that this is a distinction not unfrequently 
bestowed upon the most unworthy of men, and it is so 
little calculated to afford any thing like happiness or 
peace of mind, that I hope I shall always be taught to 
esteem it a mere puff of noisy breath ; that so being el- 
evated above it, I may seek that reward alone, which a 



* It may be said that this incident is too trifling to be recor- 
ded. I do not think so. Nothing is unimportant which illus- 
trates character ; and it is in these little things, for the most 
part, that the character may be ascertained. Besides, the mem- 
ory of the dead is sacred ; and I should not discharge the du- 
ties which I have taken upon myself m the compilation of this 
volume, to the satisfaction of my own mind, were I to suffer 
any spot or cloud to remain upon the lovely character of Spen- 
Cer which I am able to remove. 



* MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 275 

sense of the smile of God will ever bestow. Oh ! 
my friend, may those pleasures be mine which arise from 
the testimony of my conscience, that I am seeking to 
please that Divine Being, * whose frown can disap- 
point the proudest hopes, whose approbation prosper 



AS A MINISTER. 

We shall contemplate Mr Spencer as a preacher of 
the gospel, and pastor of a church. Though for 
the most part these two offices are combined, yet those 
who understand their nature, and the duties they in- 
volve, must be conscious of the distinction which this 
division implies. Many a man is an admirable preach- 
er, who is but ill qualified for the retired and constant 
duties of the pastoral office 5 and many a man is exem- 
plary as a pastor who has little except his piety, which 
indeed is much, to recommend him as a preacher. As 
Spencer united in his own person the two offices, so 
did he eminently possess the qualifications of both. 

As a Preacher his discourses were purely evangelic- 
al : this was the cast of all his sermons. He never 
preached to display himself, — but always to exalt the 
Saviour : this was his constant aim, and to accomplish it, 
he dwelt much upon the beauties of his character — the 
charms of his person, the fullness of his atonement, the 
perfection of his righteousness. He perpetually dwelt 
upon his willingness and ability to save ; and in order 
to demonstrate the necessity and the value of his great 
salvation, he seldom failed to restore to the fallen, pol- 
luted, guilty, helpless state of man. He consulted not 
the inclinations, the passions or the prejudices of his 



276 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER, 



hearers, but preached simply, faithfully, and affection* 
ately, the most humiliating, as well as the most anima- 
ting doctrines of the gospel. Whatever text he struck, 
living waters seemed immediately to flow. Whatever 
was the subject, or the occasion — his holy and ardent 
mind, ever panting for the salvation of immortal souls, 
connected with it truths and considerations, the most 
solemn and impo: tant. His applications were forcible 
and impressive. There he wrestled with the people, 
with a fervour, resembling that with which, in prayer, he 
wrestled with his God. He seemed to exhaust every 
argument which might be brought to bear upon his great 
©: ject, and to these he often added appeals and en- 
treaties, the most tender and affecting. Then he seem- 
ed to lose sight of every consideration, but his own re- 
sponsibility, and his people's good — and as though the 
congregation before him were the only people remain- 
ing to be saved, and as though every time of preaching 
was the only opportunity afforded him of using the 
means for their salvation, he besought them, as an am- 
bassador for Christ, to be reconciled to God. 

The general cast of his preaching may be gathered 
from his texts, which are freely scattered up and down 
in the preceding pages. By his confession of faith it 
will be seen, that his sentiments were most decidedly 
what have obtained, in the Christian world, the epithet, 
Calvinistic — exactly in conformity with the Shorter 
Catechism of the Assembly of Divines. To these doc- 
trines he was most warmly attached, and as they were 
the subjects of his firm belief, so were they the con- 
stant topics of his discourse, both in public and in pri- 
vate. Valuing these doctrines so highly, and cherish- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 2,77 

ing so deep a sense of their importance, we cannot be 
surprised that he should feel and express regret, when 
he saw them, in the sermons of ministers, neglected 
and cast into the shade. Perhaps, in his mode of ex- 
pression, on such occasions, he was sometimes incau- 
tious.* Admitting that it was so, we cannot but admire 
the principle. Where doctrines assume, in the view 
of the individual, an importance, similar to that which 
we are accustomed to attach to those grand principles 
which formed the basis of Mr. Spencer's ministry, we 
cannot be surprised if he expresses warmly his regret, 
when he beholds them undervalued or abandoned. 

His discourses were judicious — he particularly ex- 
celled in the adaptation of his subjects, and the selec- 
tion of his texts, to particular circumstances and occa- 
sions. His sermons were never flippant, nor bombas- 
tic — but always solid and simple — full of sound divin- 
ity, conveyed in language, which, by its copiousness, 

* Christians, and especially Christian ministers, should be 
sparing in the use of those broad and unqualified assertions re- 
specting their brethren in the ministry, which are so easily made, 
yet so difficult to prove, and so injurious in their influence. It 
is easy to say, he does not preach the gospel, of a minister — who 
loves it, and propagates it with as much ardour as the censurer 
himself. He may not preach the gospel with the same phrases— 
in precisely the same style of language. Perhaps the censurer 
loves to dwell entirely on the promises of the gospel — on the sove- 
reignty and freedom of Divine grace — on salvation as the unmer- 
ited gift of God by faith and not by works :— all this, the man 
he censures believes and preaches too ; but then with the prom.' 
ises of the gospel, he blends the threatnings, — and with the as- 
surance that salvation is of grace and by faith — the importance 
of obedience, and a tyly life as the evidence of saving faith. 



2:s 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



—its elegance,— -its fluency*— astonished every audi- 
tor. His skill in meeting the several cases of his hear- 
ers, has been already noticed. Every age and every 
rank received their portion from his public instruc- 
tions : the aged were astonished at his deep experi- 
ence -, the young were charmed with his affectionate 
manner; and few, very few, were the instances in wliich 
the hearers did not depart, each affirming, that there 
was something in the sermon that exactly suited them.* 
As a preacher, Mr. Spencer was remarkable for 
Animation ; indeed this was so strongly character- 
istic of him, that almost every other feature might 
have been resolved into this. Mr. Styles, than whom 
no man is better able to form and express an opinion 

* A passage in a sermon recently published by the Rev. Rob- 
ert Hall, admirably describes this quality of Mr. Spencer's 
preaching". " Without descending to such a minute specifica- 
tion of circumstances, as shall make our addresses personal, they 
ought unquestionably to be characteristic ; that the conscience 
of the audience may feel the hand of the preacher searching it, 
and every individual know where to class himself. The preach- 
er who aims at doing good will endeavour, above all things, to 
insolate his hearers, to place each of them apart, and render it 
impossible for him to escape by losing himself in the crowd. At 
the day of judgment, the attention excited by the surrounding 
scene, the strange aspect of nature, the dissolution of the ele- 
ments, and the last trump, will have no other effect than to cause 
the reflections of the sinner to return with a more overwhelming 
tide on his own character, his sentence, his unchanging destiny ; 
and, amid the innumerable millions who surround him, he will 
mourn apart. It is thus the Christian ministers should endeavour 
to prepai-e the tribunal of conscience, and turn the eyes of every- 
one of his hearers on himself." — Discourse delivered to the Rev. 
Jcmtes Robertson at his ordination, by Robert HaU> A. M. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 279 

of his worth, most correctly observes, " if I were to 
sum up Mr. Spencer's character in one word, compre- 
hending in it only what is excellent and ennobling to 
human nature, I should say it was animation. His 
intellect was feeling, and his feeling was intellect. 
His thoughts breathed, and his words glowed. He 
said nothing tamely, he did nothing with half a heart." 
With him, the animation of the pulpit was enkindled 
by the devotion of the closet. His communion with 
God was deep and habitual, and this rendered him 
most feelingly alive to the great truths which he deliv- 
ered — whilst the ardent desire which he cherished for 
the salvation of sinners supplied, with constant fuel, 
the flame of his zeal. In the pulpit, he appeared to 
be abstracted from every consideration, but those im- 
mediately connected with his subject, and his office. 
It was this holy fervour, perhaps, which constituted 
the great charm of his ministry. The simplest obser- 
vations from his lips were invested, by his manner of 
expressing them, with an importance which demand- 
ed attention. The interest which he felt himself in 
the momentous topics he discussed, he communicated 
to his hearers ; and it was impossible not in some de- 
gree to feel, when every one saw how eagerly intent 
he was upon promoting their eternal welfare. 

" 1 remember," says a friend, " that one evening 
when we reached Hoxton, in good time for him but too 
late for me, as he was to preach, the chapel was throng- 
ed, and I stood in the passage through which he passed 
to the pulpit. His delicate frame was too weak to sus- 
tain the animation of his mighty spirit. His half-clos- 
ed mouth, fixed eye, flushed cheek, and panting breast. 



280 



MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER. 



pained me to the heart as he passed me, and loudly 
spoke my awful responsibility, possessed of such a 
friend and such a ministry. He afterwards told me 
that he generally was agitated in his way to the pulpit, 
but that when he reached it he seemed to feel himself at 
home. I once asked a medical friend, who heard him 
at Hoxton with me, « how he heard ?' < Very uncomfort- 
ably.' < Why?' < Because I saw that his preaching is 
at a physical expense to himself, beyond what you have 
any idea of. Every part of the service, except his 
repetition of the Lord's prayer, was at an expense 
which his frame is incapable of supporting." 

As a preacher, he was 

Solemn. He never degraded the awful dignity of 
his station, and his office, by buffoonery and jests,—* 
he was popular— but he never courted popularity, by 
the practice of any thing that was timeserving, craf- 
ty or mean. As an eminent judge once observed, 
" he did not despise popularity, but he loved — not 
the popularity which he must follow — but the popu- 
larity that followed him." Who, but must behold 
with mingled sorrow and contempt, the low and dis- 
gusting arts, to which some men, who style themselves 
preachers of the gospel, will condescend, in order to 
gain the temporary admiration of the vulgar. There 
are some indeed, whose minds are unhappily so consti- 
tuted, that they find it impossible to forego their hu- 
mour, even in the pulpit. In such characters, while 
we deplore the failing, we esteem the men, and revere 
their excellencies. But where there is no talent to 
command respect — no superior worth to induce the ex- 
ercise of forbearance and love, but mere tricks are re- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 281 

sorted to, for the sake of obtaining a name, every feel- 
ing is absorbed in that of mingled pity and disgust. 

Mr. Spencer's preaching had a holy tendency. He 
loved the gospel, and gave to its leading truths the. 
prominency in his discourses, but on them, as on a 
firm foundation, he built a superstructure of the purest 
morality. Whilst he directed his hearers to a higher 
source for acceptance with God, than obedience to the 
commands of the law, he never failed to enforce its 
precepts upon the practice of Christians, as the rule of 
their life. Upon the absolute necessity of holiness, 
both of heart and conduct, he constantly dwelt, and 
from every topic which he discussed, he deduced, those 
practical lessons, which it naturally supplied. 

But, although as a preacher he obtained almost un- 
exampled popularity, he was yet remarkably 

Modest and unassuming. No man would better take 
a hint, or receive reproof with greater humility and 
even thankfulness, but no man was more reluctant to 
give either, though he might have presumed much up- 
on the importance which attended his station, and have 
dealt out his censures with a liberal hand. 

66 Do you think," observed a friend to him, " the ex- 
pression, ' our realm,' which you use in prayer, quite 
right ?" « Is it not ?" " It may be so—but I never 
knew any individual except George III. and Thomas 
Spencer, use it, the one in his proclamations — -the oth- 
e* in his prayers." Constantly as he used the phrase 
before — it never was known to escape him afterwards. 

" Mr. S." said a gentleman, belonging to a certain 
congregation, to whom he was about to preach, " the 
people come in very late, in general. I wish you would 
*24 



282 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 






reprove them for it this morning." " Oh, no, Sir," he 
replied, " it would ill become a visitor and a youth like 
me ; it ought to be a stated or an aged minister." 

He shrunk from the public notice to which he was 
exposed, and usually walked the street in great haste, 
and with downcast eyes, anxious to escape the gaze of 
men. 

In the pulpit, Mr. Spencer was an interesting figure. 
His countenance had the fine bloom of youth. His 
voice was full toned and musical. His action was 
graceful and appropriate. He sometimes leaned over 
the pulpit, as if conversing with the people, with the 
greatest earnestness, and anxious to be so plain and ex- 
plicit as that none should misunderstand. At others 
lie stood with manly dignity, displaying with spontane- 
ous ease, all the characteristics of genuine eloquence. 

That as a preacher he was faultless, no one will be 
disposed to assert ; but his faults were those of youth, 
which time and experience would have certainly cor- 
rected. He was sometimes too rapid — his zeal, like 
an impetuous torrent, bore him along, and would brook 
no check, — by which his voice was often strained, and 
the usual placidity and dignity of his style somewhat 
interrupted. I conclude this sketch of his character 
as a preacher, by a note inserted at the close of Mr* 
Hall's discourse, above referred to : — 

" The sensation excited by the sudden removal of 
that extraordinary young man, [Mr. Spencer,] accom- 
panied with such affecting circumstances, has not sub- 
sided, nor abated, as we are informed, much of its force. 
The event which has drawn so great a degree of atten- 
tion, has been well improved in several excellent dis- 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 283 

courses on the occasion. The unequalled admiration 
he excited while living, and the deep and universal 
concern expressed at his death, demonstrate him to 
have been no ordinary character ; but one of those rare 
specimens of human nature, which the great Author of 
it produces at distant intervals, and exhibits for a mo- 
ment, while He is hastening to make them up amongst 
his jewels. The high hopes entertained of this admi- 
rable youth, and the shock approaching to consterna- 
tion, occasioned by his death, will probably remind the 
classical reader of the inimitable lines of Virgil on 
Marcellus :—* 

O nate, ingentem luctum ne quoere tuorum. 
Ostendent terris hunc tantum fata, neque ultra 
Esse sinent. 

" The writer of this, deeply regrets his never having 
had an opportunity of witnessing his extraordinary 
powers ; but from all he has heard from the best judg- 
es, he can entertain no doubt, that his talents in the 
pulpit were unrivalled, and that, had his life been spar- 
ed, he would, in all probability have carried the art of 
preaching, if it may so be styled, to a greater perfec- 
tion than it ever attained, at least, in this kingdom. 
His eloquence appears to have been of the purest stamp, 
effective, not ostentatious, consisting less in the strik- 
ing preponderance of any one quality, requisite to form 
a public speaker, than in an exquisite combination of 
them ail ; whence resulted an extraordinary power of 
impression, which was greatly aided by a natural and 
majestic elocution. To these eminent endowments, 
he added, from the unanimous testimony of those who 



284 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



knew him best, a humility and modesty, which, while 
they concealed a great part of his excellencies from 
himself, rendered them the more engaging and attract- 
ive. When we reflect on these circumstances, we need 
the less wonder at the passionate concern excited by 
his death. For it may truly be said of him, as of St. 
Stephen, that devout men made great lamentation over 
him. May the impression produced by the event nev- 
er be effaced ; and, above all, may it have the effect of 
engaging such as are embarked in the Christian minis- 
try, to work while it is called to-day." 



In directing my readers to a contemplation of Mr. 
Spencer's character as 

A Pastor, I am influenced more, by a desire to 
render this general view of our departed friend com- 
plete and to do ample justice to his memory, than by 
the prospect of any very considerable practical result. 
There are so many examples of pastoral diligence, fur- 
nished by the recorded lives of men venerable for their 
age, and valuable for their experience, that I cannot 
anticipate much from the pattern of a youth, just en- 
tered on his labours. But such as he was I am bound 
to represent him. 

In his visits to the sick he ivas constant and tender. 

His enlargement in prayer, at the bed-side of the 
diseased and dying, was truly astonishing. The 
depth of his experience and ability in speaking to the 
cases of the afflicted, appeared mysterious. But it 
was soon explained by a holy providence. — For whilst 
his friends saw him young and healthy, just entering 
into the world. He who seeth not as man seeth, beheld 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 285 

in him the Christian of fifteen years standing, just ta- 
king wing for glory. This consideration may tend to 
check invidious comparisons, — for it is certainly unjust 
to compare one in whom God has cut short his work, 
in righteousness, with those who, though older in. years, 
are younger in grace, and have perhaps a long and hon- 
ourable course before them. 

His intercourse with his people was cheerful, spirit- 
ual and instructive. 

He was no gossip. It was wished by some, that he 
had been more frequent in his visits. But it is diffi- 
cult so to equalize the attention, in a large body of 
people, as to satisfy the demands of all, and by appa- 
rent neglect give offence to none. Where he did vis- 
it, he always left a happy impression of his piety, his 
wisdom, and his amiable disposition. He abhorred the 
idle tales of the day, — he was no friend to scandal. 
He endeavoured always to direct the conversation in- 
to a useful and pleasing channel. He was cheerful, 
without levity, and serious without affectation. There 
was nothing formal or studied in his manners. In him, 
every thing was natural, and through all the depart- 
ments of his character, there was a harmony of fea- 
ture — a unity of principle, which every one observed 
and admired. 

In all the duties of the pastoral office, he was well iw- 
formed, affectionate, and constant. 

He knew what belonged to his office — and never 
failed to practice what he knew. He made full proof 
of his ministry. He was a scribe well instructed in 
the mysteries of the kingdom. A workman that need- 
ed not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of 



286 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



truth — giving a portion to each, in due season — sparing 
the irregularities or prejudices of none — but seeking 
with ardent affection the good of all — he commended 
himself to every man's conscience in the sight of God. 
Early he girded on the armour—and soon became a 
leader in the armies of the Prince of Peace. He has 
fought a good fight, he has finished his course — and now 
he enjoys the crown. 






REFLECTIONS. 

I am unwilling further to detain the attention of the 
reader to a volume, which, but for its interesting subject, 
would have wearied his patience long ago, and which 
has imperceptibly swollen to a bulk, far greater than 
that which the writer, originally, intended it to obtain, 
by any additional reflections, especially as the prece- 
ding pages abound with observations of a practical 
nature, as the narrative suggested them — and as almost 
every topic of improvement which might now be intro- 
duced has been fully anticipated and forcibly express- 
ed by the interesting publications which appeared upon 
the death of Spencer. And yet, were I to dismiss the 
volume, without any effort at a final improvement of 
the subject, I might be charged with neglecting the 
great object of biography— utility ; and the book might 
be considered as deficient in the most important point. 

In Spencer we see, — 

First, That obscurity of birth or station presents no 
insurmountable barrier to the progress of real excel- 
lence. 

The history of past and present times furnishes un- 
numbered illustrations of this remark. Many who have 



MEMOIRS OF SPEXCER. £87 

lived to enlighten and to bless the world — who have 
obtained rank, and fortune, and renown, were born in 
obscurity, and passed their earliest years in the obliv- 
ion of humble life. Let such as feel at present the 
pressure of circumstances, yet pant for scenes of hon- 
ourable exertion, and extensive usefulness, ponder the 
life of Spencer and be encouraged. If God designs to 
use them for the public good, he will, by an unexpected 
train of events, in his providers ce call them forth; if 
not let them neither rush unbidden from their sphere, 
nor occupy their station in sullen discontent; if a 
wider field be not allowed them let them cultivate with 
cheerfulness the little spot to which they are confined. 
The most retired hamlet affords abundant opportuni- 
ties of doing good ; and many a man to whom it is de- 
nied to enlighten crowded cities and populous towns, 
may be a star of the first magnitude in the village where 
he dwells. 

Secondly, We see in Spencer the commanding influ- 
ence of genuine and fervent piety. This was the secret 
spring of all his energy — the fuel of his animation — the 
source of his popularity. That his mind was well fur- 
nished with solid truths — that his manner was engag- 
ing — that his form was graceful — that his countenance 
was lovely — that his language was elegant — that his 
voice was fine — is admitted ; but it was his ardent piety 
which gave to each of these a charm, and awoke in the 
breasts of his auditors a feeling of reverence and solem- 
nity, which the simple exhibition of them could never 
have produced. The graces of genuine eloquence, and 
the stores of a cultivated mind, are precious; but with- 
out piety, they are as ' sounding brass and iinliivg 



288 MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 

cymbals :* they may delight the ear, but never will im- 
press the heart; and it is not, usually, the labours of 
the most polished and enlightened of his ministers, 
that Jehovah deigns especially to bless ; but rather the 
unwearied exertions of those, whom the love of Christ 
and of immortal souls has rendered zealous in the sa- 
cred cause. 

Thirdly, We see in the labours of Spencer, an admi- 
rable example of diligence, and in the success that crown- 
ed them, a strong encouragement to ejcertion. 

So short was the period of his stated ministry, that 
we can only measure it by months : it had not reached 
to years. But few, perhaps, whose term of labour was 
so short as his, were ever honoured with more success 5 
whilst many who have seen the number of his months 
often repeated in years of anxious labour, have not 
been favoured with so much. If all prove faithful un- 
to death, whom he enlisted whilst on earth, beneath 
the banners of the cross, he will head a goodly compa- 
ny, when the hosts of the redeemed shall be assembled 
at the judgment day. Who that knew and loved him, 
but must anticipate the joy with which he then shall 
sav, 'here am I, Father, and the children whom thou 
hast given me? 

Let the example of his exertions and success stimu- 
late, quicken, and encourage ours. We work for the 
same Master, and are engaged in the same cause. And, 
to the student or the youthful preacher who may honour 
these pages with his regard, I will add, your term may 
be as short — If it be not as successful, let it be as dili- 
gent. The diligence is ours, — the success is God's : 
He will not demand at our hands what is not ours to 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 289 

secure — He will give His rewards of grace to the 
faithful servant, whether his success be proportioned 
to his exertions or not ; and we are 'a sweet sa- 
vour unto Him in them that are saved, and in them that 
perish? 

Fourthly, From the early and sudden removal of 
Spencer, let churches learn to prize the labours of ho- 
ly and devoted men, while they enjoy them. Alas ! too 
many only learn the value of their privileges by their 
removal. They neglected or lightly esteemed, whilst 
living, the minister, upon whose memory they heap 
eulogies and honours when departed ; and I believe, 
that some have even bedewed the ashes of their pas- 
tors with affected tears, who accelerated and em- 
bittered their passage to the grave, by unkindness and 
neglect ! Not so the people whom the death of Spen- 
cer suddenly bereaved. The tears with which they 
embalmed his memory, were suitable to the respect 
they bore his person — the love they cherished for his 
friendship — and the sense they entertain of his trans- 
cendent worth.* that every minister living were 

* By some liberal expositors of God's providence, the death 
of Spencer has been pronounced a judgment on the people, for 
what they have termed, " their idolatrous attachment"* to him. 
Alas ! the idolizing- of its ministers is, surely, not the crying- sin 
of the church at the present day ! But was there any tiling 
in the conduct of the people over whom Spencer presided, so 
Contrary to the mind of God as to excite thus strongly his dis- 
pleasure, in loving a man who was beloved wherever he was 
known — and revering an office which Christ himself lias inves- 
ted with so much dignity ? Let such bold infringers of the 
prerogative of God, who presume to assign reasons for his con- 

25 



390 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 



as much beloved ! — dying were as unaffectedly deplo- 
red ! 

Fifthly, In Spencer we- see the excellence of real re- 
ligion — -how it sweetens labour — sooths in affliction — 
supports in trial — and animates the soul in scenes of 
disappointment, and hours of care. To few are allot- 
ted severer labours — to few, so young, are measured 
heavier trials than those which he endured. But few, 
upon the whole, have possessed a greater share of hap- 
piness : there were intervals of sorrow, and clouds 
would sometimes obscure the brightness of his sun ; 
but for the most part his hope was lively, and his pros- 
pects fair. He enjoyed religion upon earth — he anti- 
cipated the consummation of its bliss in heaven : and 
now he has entered into the joy of his Lord. His life 
was piety, and his end was peace. 

Sixthly, In the sudden removal of Spencer, we mark 
the mysterious conduct of Jehovah- s providence. 

At first sight the event might stagger the strongest 
faith, for he was snatched away at a period when his 
life seemed of the utmost moment to the people over 
whom he presided, and the circle in which he moved. 
Scarcely had his talents reached their maturity ; his 
character was even then unfolding ; from the promise 
of his youth, his friends dwelt with rapture on the an- 



duct, w hen he has not deigned to give any, read, — " Knoxv them 
that labour amongst yon, and over you in the Lord, and admonish 
you t and esteem them very highly in love for their work's sake, 
and be at peace among yourselves." Let them take the solemn 
admonition this passage gives ; and perhaps their own minis- 
ters will have no occasion to regret that they have done so. 



MEMOIRS OF SPENCER. 291 

ticipations of his manhood, and every day added some 
strokes of reality to the picture they drew,— when sud- 
denly, in the bloom of his youth — at the commence- 
ment of his course, — just entered on his labours — he is 
arrested by the arm of death, and conducted to the si- 
lent grave. Was his death untimely ? No, — -he had 
seen a good old age in usefulness, though not in years : 
" that life is long that answers life's great end." His 
end was fully answered, and he was gathered to the 
grave in peace. Was his death severe ? No — to him 
it was tranquil, and serene ; he crossed the river of 
Jordan, singing as he went, and in an unexpected mo- 
ment, found himself safely landed on the shores of im- 
mortality. No raging billows awoke his fears — no ag- 
onies disturbed his countenance — death respected his 
loveliness, and preserved the beauty of the form, when 
the spirit that animated it was gone. But whilst for 
him his death was peaceful, was their ought of mercy 
in it to Ms friends? Yes — if they review and act upon 
the lessons it conveys, there is 5 to survivers it de- 
clares, that excellence and beauty must fade and die- 
let them seek an interest in Him, in whom whosoever 
liveth and believeth shall not die eternally — to the 
church it will endear the assurance of His care, who is 
independent of instruments and the conqueror of death. 
To the young it is a solemn admonition of the uncertain- 
ty of life — the instability of all terrestrial good. To 
such as attended his ministry — what a powerful appli- 
cation is it of the many sermons they have heard him 
preach, with such delight — but to so little profit ! How 
must the event of the succeeding morning rivet the 



292 MfiMOmS OP SPENCER. 

impression of those solemn words which, on the last 
Sabbath evening of his life, he addressed to them : " I 
shall soon meet jou at the bar of God ; I shall be there !" 
that they were wise, that they knew these things — 
that they would consider their latter end. 



EN y D OF THE MEMOIRS. 



APPENDIX. 



JL HE Dissenters of various denominations have numerous Acad- 
emies, partly endowed by munificent individuals, and partly sup- 
ported by voluntary subscription, for the education of young- 
men for the work of the ministry. There are institutions of this 
kind at Homerton, Hoxton, Hackney, Wymondley, Rotherham 
Axminster, Idle, Wrexham, Bristol, Stepney, Caermarthen, York, 
Glasgow, and other places. In these schools of religion and liter- 
ature the course of study is for the most part liberal, and some 
of them have supplied the churches of Christ, for many gen- 
erations, with sound and learned divines. The compiler had the 
honour to receive his education in the Old College, Homerton, 
a truly venerable institution, over which the Rev. Dr. John Pye 
Smith, and the Rev. Thomas Hill, preside. The following is an 
outline of the principles upon which that institution is founded, 
and the course of study which is there pursued. 

It is held as a fundamental principle among the Orthodox 
Dissenters, that no young man should be destined for the min- 
istry as a mere profession ; or educated with a view to that of- 
fice, till he gives rational indications of that internal and sound 
piety, which arises from the operations of the Holy Spirit of 
God upon the heart. Their first care therefore is, to select 
such characters only as candidates for the office of the minis- 
try ; and in so doing, it happens not unfrequently, that the in- 
*25 



294 APPENDIX. 

dividuals whom ministers and private Christians select out of 
their congregations, have been engaged more or less in the avo- 
cations of secular life, and have enjoyed only a common educa- 
tion. It appears upon the average of many years, that about t-wo 
thirds of the ministers, educated in the Old College, at Homerton, 
have been of this description. The remaining third has consisted 
of young men, whose whole previous life had been devoted to 
literary pursuits, and whose superior advantages of education, 
had been adorned by early and promising piety. But in all 
cases, the prerequisites for admission into this ancient insti- 
tution are, credible and ample testimonies that the applicant is, 
in the severest judgment of Christian reason, a sincere, devoted, 
and practical disciple of Christ, born of God, and sanctified by 
the Holy Spirit. In addition to this grand requisite, the Direc- 
tors of the Academy require some evidence of respectable tal- 
ents, and such as are likely to improve the advantages to be con- 
ferred. As a further security for the attainment of this object, 
students who are thus approved at their first introduction, are 
admitted upon a probation of three months. The evidences of 
piety and talents, displayed during this probationary period, de- 
termine the full admission of a young candidate. 

If the student, at his entrance into the house, should not be 
possessed of classical literature sufficient to enable him with 
ease and accuracy to read ordinary Latin and Greek authors, (e. 
g. Quintilian and Horace, Xenophon and Homer,) he enters on 
grammatical and classical studies, and attends to them solely 
till he is judged fit for the next class of pursuits : this period is 
seldom less than two years, and sometimes it is longer. 

The Rev. Thomas Hill, Classical and Mathematical Tutor, 
conducts this department with distinguished ability, and with 
un intenseness of application, worthy of the most grateful men- 
tion : under his direction, the students read the most valuable 
Roman and Greek classics, with a strict attention to accuracy of 
construction, parsing, prosody, and the cultivation of a just and 
elegant taste for the beauties of those immortal authors. The 
course thus begun is continued to the close of a student's resi- 
dence in the college, which, in most cases, is nearly six years. 



APPENDIX. 295 

During the two years of pursuits, solely classical and philosoph- 
ical, attention is also paid to English composition ; and themes, 
on subjects chiefly moral and religious, are composed by those 
students whom Mr. Hill judges fit ; and one day at least, in 
each fortnight, is spent by him in reviewing and animadverting 
on these essays. 

After the students have entered upon the course, called for 
the sake of distinction, Academical, they still continue their at- 
tendance upon the Classical Tutor ; and they add to their im- 
proving acquaintance with the best authors of profane antiquity, 
the study of the Hebrew language, and afterwards of the Syri- 
ac. They also enjoy his Lectures in Geometry and Algebra, in 
which Euclid and Bonnycastle's Algebra are the text-books. 

The Academical course, upon which students enter as soon as 
their proficiency in classical learning renders it proper, is prin- 
cipally Theological ; but Lectures are also regularly read in 
other departments of science and general knowledge. The du- 
ties of the Divinity Tutor embrace, 

I. The Theological Department, which comprehends six 
distinct courses, or plans of instruction. 

1. The compilation of a systematical arrangement of Chris- 
tian Theology, by the judgment and industry of each student 
himself. Dr. Smith, whose profound classical, theological and 
biblical knowledge, renders him admirably qualified for the im- 
portant office which he fills, puts into the hands of the students 
a large manuscript work, entitled " First Lines of Christian 
Theology." This commences with an introductory address, 
consisting of observations and counsels upon the moral state 
and dispositions of the mind which are necessary for the profit- 
able study of divine truth ; — upon the utility and subserviency 
of literature and general science for the advancement of Theo- 
logical knowledge, and usefulness in the ministry : — and upon 
the conduct of the understanding in the actual study of divini- 
ty under its various aspects of liberal and impartial inquirj", 
interpretation of the scriptures, and the determination of contro- 
versies. This is followed by the syllabus, which forms the body 



296 



APPENDIX. 



of the work, and consists of definitions, propositions, hints oi 
solution, corollaries, scholia, &c. with references to authors of 
merit under every particular. 

The design of this plan is not only to lead the student into a 
clear and logical method of deducing divine truth from its prop- 
er source, but to engage his industry of research and meditation, 
to take him to the first fountains of knowledge, and to excite 
his judgment, his powers of discrimination, and all his talents, 
to the most profitable kind of exercise. When the student has, 
with suitable attention and diligence, completed the scheme, he- 
possesses a body of Christian divinity and moral philosophy, 
thoroughly digested, methodically arranged, the fruit of his own 
labour and industry, and the systematical depository of his fu- 
ture acquisitions. 

2. A Polemical Lecture, designed to furnish a fair and 
comprehensive view of the most important controversies of the 
present day ; inculcating at the same time, the value and impor- 
tance of truth, and the absurdity and danger of scepticism or 
indifference. 

3. An Exegetical Lecture^on some book of the Greek Testa- 
ment, generally an epistle. 

4. A course on Biblical Criticism, and the principles of sa- 
cred philology and Interpretation. 

5. Lectures on Preaching, and the other duties of the pastor- 
al office. Dr. Doddridge's Lectures on those subjects are the 
text-book. 

6. Lectures on Ecclesiastical History. 

A course of Lectures on the Elements of Natural Philos- 
Chemistry, and Natural History. 



II. 

ophy 

m 

IV 



A course on Logic and the Philosophy of the Mind. 

A course on the study of Civil History and antiquities ; 
attainments prerequisite for that study, observations on historic- 
al writers', rules and advices for securing the greatest sum of ad- 
vantage from the pursuit, and an inquiry into the objects most 
interesting to a Christian divine, to whicli the study of history 
should be rendered subservient. 



APPENDIX. 297 

The preceding statement may be considered as a fair speci- 
men of the usual course of study pursued in the best regulated 
of our Dissenting Colleges. The subject of the preceding me- 
moirs received his education in the truly respectable Academy 
at Hoxton : — over that institution the Bev. Robert Simpson, the 

Rev. Henry Forster Burder, A. M. and the Rev. Hooper, 

A. M. preside with distinguished ability.* 

In these respective Academies, public examinations are annu- 
ally held, in which a close and critical enquiry is made into the 
diligence — the acquirements, and the conduct of each student 

No. II. 

Specimens of Mr. Spencer's earlt exercises in preaching. 

From the following outlines of some of his first sermons may 
be gathered what was his general 9tyle of preaching at the peri- 
od of their composition. 

ON PUBLIC WORSHIP. 

Dated March 6, 1807". 

Matthew xviii. 20. ' For -where two or three are gathered 
together i?i my name, there am I in the midst of them. 3 

We shall make a few general observations on the text in the 
following order : 

I. That it is the duty and interest of Christians to 
assemble together for the purposes of religious worship. 

This duty was 

1. Practised by ancient believers. Zion was the well known 

* / should be happy to present a statement of the system adopted 
in that excellent institution, but I am not furnished ivith materials, 
or the purpose. Such a statement ims not deemed necessary by 
those of -whom I requested information. I think it of importance to 
mention this, lest I shoidd be considered as partial, in giving so 
minute a detail of t/ie course at Ifo?nerton f and saying so little of 
the plans pursued at Hoxton. 



298 



APPENDIX. 



place to which the tribes went up— Christ frequented the syna- 
gogue. The apostles met together, &c. 

% It is enjoined in the sacred scriptures. See Ps. c 4. Heb, 
x. 25. 

3. Fraught -with the richest blessings. 

II. That it must be done in the name of Christ\ 

1. In obedience to his command. 

2. In the use of his appointed means. 

3. In dependance on his assistance. 

4. With a view to his glory. 

HI. That although but few persons thus assemble, yet 

THAT IS NO OBJECTION TO THEIR OBTAINING THE DIVINE FA- 
TOUB AND BLESSING. 

* Wherever tivo or three* &c. 
We remark in the first place, 

1. That God regards the sincerity of the -worshippers not their 
number. 

2. The happy experience of -worshippers in all ages of the 
•world. As a confirmation of the sentiment, 

3. The positive assertion of the text. 

IV. That Jesus is present with all those who thus 

ASSEMBLE TOGETHER. 

How is Christ present in his worshipping assemblies ? 
For what purpose is Christ present with his worshipping peo- 
ple ? 

1. To observe the manner of their -worship. 

2. To bless those ivho are earnestly seeking him. 



REFLECTIONS. 

1. The Lord Jesus Christ is God, or he could not be present 
in all the assemblies of his people at the same time. 

2. How inexcusable is the conduct of those who neglect pub- 
lic worship. 

3. How great will be the happiness of the heavenly world, to 
all the sincere worshippers of Christ. 



APPENDIX. -J99 

THE SECOND APPEARING OF CHRIST. 

Hebrews ix. 28. ' And unto them that Look for him shall he 
appear the second time without sin unto salvation. 
Let us contemplate, 

1. The glorious appearance op the Son of God. 
The text informs us of 

1.. Its certainty. * He shall appear/ &c. 

2. Its order. f The second time/ &c. 

3. Its manner. * Without sin? &c. 

4. The end. \ Unto salvation? 

n. The persons who will be happily interested in it. 
To those -who look for him, 

1. With ardent love. 

2. With earnest longing. 

3. With patient waiting. 

4. With due preparation. 

From this subject permit me to make these remarks. 

What a great distinction among mankind will there be at the 
j udgment. 

Of what importance is it for us to know whether we are thus 
looking for him. 

In what high estimation should we hold that Saviour who is 
the first and the last in a sinner's salvation. 

THE WOMAN OF SAMARIA. 

John iv. 28, 29. * The woman then left her water pot and went 
her way, into tlie city, and saith to the men, Come see a man 
which told me all things, whatever I did ; is not this the Christ ? 
From the text and its connexion we shall draw the three fol- 
lowing plain obserrations : 

I. That Jesus Christ is possessed op the greatest excel- 
lencies. 

We shall confine ourselves to those illustrated in his conver- 
sation w ; th the woman of Samaria. 

1. Profound humility. Though he was rich in the glories of 
his divine nature, he humbled himself and became a man, and so 



;oo 



APPENDIX. 



as not to be above holding conversation with a poor woman at a 
well. Let proud mortals contemplate this and be ashamed. 

2. Consummate wisdom. He proceeds upon the plan estab- 
lished by the order of the everlasting covenant, and will not fail 
of converting all his chosen people. He knew where to find this 
woman — he knew all her circumstances — and what kind of con- 
versation to hold with her. 

3. Ardent benevolence. It was for the instruction and conver- 
sion of this poor woman, that he exerted himself. 

H. That those who abb ksablid to discover his excel- 
lencies FEEL AX ATTACHMENT TO HIM. 

The affection of that soul which has by faith contemplated 
and discovered the excellencies of Christ, is, 

1. Reasonable. (Rational) 

2. Fervent. 

3. Influential. 

ni. That those who really love him are anxious to 

RECOMMEND HIM TO OTHERS. 

1. By earnest entreaty. 

2. By bringing them under the sound of the gospel. 

3. By prayer to God for them. 

4. By a holy life. 

IMPROVEMENT. 

1. We here see that there is no worthiness in the instrument 
employed in a sinner 's conversion. 

The Samaritan woman was made useful in directing her fel- 
low citizens to Christ. 

2. This subject affords us a test whereby we may try our own 
characters. 

Are we really attached to Clr'st ? 

3. Are there any here desirous to see Jesus ? 

No. m. 

CHRIST AT EMMAUS. 

Luke xxiv. 32. * And they said one to another, did not our 
hearts bum within us, wlule he talked with us by the way and 
while he opened to us the scriptures P 






APPENDIX. 301 

The connexion of this text shews us, that after the death and 
resurrection of the great Messiah, two of the disconsolate disci- 
ples, who knew not that he was raised from the dead, went to 
a village called Emmaus ; that on their way thither they con- 
versed, as was likely they would do, upon the wonderful events 
that had lately transpired in Jerusalem, and spake of him they 
loved. His person — his actions — his sermons — his prophecies — 
and, above all, his most extraordinary exit occupied their sol- 
emn attention, and afforded a subject for the most interesting 
discourse. Whilst they were thus engaged in conversing about 
him, with whom they had before been familiar, and from whom 
they had learned most excellent lessons, a third came up and 
joined them ; this indeed was Jesus of Nazareth, who had been 
raised from the dead by the glory of the Father. But he chose, 
for wise ends, to conceal himself from them, and to cause that 
their eyes should be holden, that they should not know him, ap- 
pearing to them as a stranger desirous of knowing the subject 
of their conversation, and the cause of their grief, and to sympa- 
thize with them under their sorrow — weeping with them that 
wept. They intimated to Mm their wonder that he, even sup- 
posing that he were but a stranger in Jerusalem, should be un- 
acquainted with the things which were come to pass there in 
those days ; then proceeding to tell him how Jesus, a prophet, 
mighty in deed and word before God and the people, was con- 
demned to death and crucified ; giving him to understand at the 
same time, that the hopes they had entertained of him were most 
sanguine, for they trusted that it had been he which should have 
redeemed Israel ; and, finally, they informed him of some pe- 
culiar phenomena that had been witnessed by certain women of 
their acquaintance at his sepulchre, where his body could not be 
seen, though they saw a vision of angels, who said that he was 
alive. The courteous and mild fellow traveller then began to 
speak and detain them with delightful converse ; for he shewed 
them • that Christ ought to suffer these things, and then to en- 
ter into his glory.' He spread before them the mysteries of the 
inspired page* and shewed how they were illustrated in the life 
26 



302 APPENDIX. 

and death of their best friend. Sooner than they thought they 
arrived at their journey's end, where he made as though he 
would have gone further ; but they prevailed on him, by their 
great importunity, to go in and tarry with them— with them he 
took bread, blessed it, brake it, and gave unto them— then first 
iheir eyes were opened to behold him as the same Jesus who 
was crucified, and to discover in him the lovely features of their 
Lord who had done all things well — when, lo ! he vanished out 
«f their sight, and was seen no more.— After which, we may 
reasonably suppose to have taken place — a solemn silence ; and 
then they used to each other the admirable expression we have 
selected as a text — " Did not our hearts burn within us, while 
he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the 
scriptures ?" Having, then, taken a slight glance at the whole 
account of this wonderful circumstance, in confining our atten- 
tion more particularly to the words of the text, we shall view 
them as leading us to reflect on — the conversation of our Lord 
with his disciples — and the effects it produced upon their minds 
— " their hearts burned within them, while he talked with them 
by the way." Behold 

(I.) The conversation of our Lord with his disciples. 

And here the passage presents us with the kind familiarity 
which he displayed, and the lustre that he cast on the divine 
word — the first remarkable thing in our Lord's conversation 
with the travellers to Emmaus, is — 

(1) The kind familiarity which he displayed — their own ex- 
pression is, " He talketh with us by the way." It is condescen- 
sion in the Son of God, to notice the concerns and accept the 
worship of his holy angels ; how much more must it be so to 
sojourn with mankind — to go where they go — and freely to tell 
them the secrets of his heart. The Saviour was now, you re- 
member, even on earth, a most dignified character — he was now 
no longer to suffer and be cruelly entreated — he had now finish- 
ed the work his Father had given him to do — and had shortly- 
after to ascend to claim his high seat in glory. He now shewed 
himself to be the Christ, the Son of God, and confirmed the re- 
alty of his appointment and mission, by his bursting the bars of 



APPENDIX 303 

the tomb. He would not now be viewed by any as a common 
character, but as the most wonderful being- that had ever ap- 
peared in the world — as such even his enemies must consider 
him. Yet all this did not make him forget his friends, or cause 
him to lose any thing of that social and condescending disposi- 
tion he had ever before manifested : but almost as soon as he was 
risen, he goes to meet some of the members of his little family, 
and confirm them further in himself. " He talked with them by 
the way." — Oh ! what a heaven does Christ here by his example 
stamp upon Christian intercourse and sacred friendship.' — Behold 
he talks with his disciples, proving to them that " as ointment 
and perfume rejoice the heart, so doth the sweetness of a man's 
friend, by hearty counsel." And to this day we are permitted to 
converse with our God — " he talks with us by the way" — tells us 
our true character, and reveals his own excellence — he appears 
as our wonderful counsellor ! and to whatever place we journey, 
we should be concerned to have him talking with us by the way. 
The next remarkable circumstance in this conversation of our 
Lord, mentioned in the text, is 

(2) The lustre that he cast upon the divine word. — " He talk- 
ed with us by the way, and opened to us the scriptures." And 
well he might, for he told us before that " the Lord had given, 
him the tongue of the learned ; that he should know how to speak 
a word in season, to him that is weary." " He began," says the 
evangelist, " at Moses and all the prophets, and expounded to 
them in all the scriptures, the things concerning himself" — 
blessed interpreter— divine teacher. We have no reason to sup- 
pose that he forgot the first promise that was made of him ; even 
in the garden of Eden, that he should bruise the head of the ser- 
pent : no doubt but the intended sacrifice of Isaac, the patriarch's 
son — the erection of the brazen serpent on the pole — and the va- 
rious sacrifices under the law, were all delightfully commented 
on by Jesus the Saviour. He did justice to all the passages — he 
shewed then* full import — he gave them an insight into the 
meaning of all the prophecies respecting his death and glory— he 
took up every part of scripture in its bearing upon himself, he 
shewed [that he] was » all in all"— even in the Old Testament ; 



30'4 APPENDIX 

and thus by his teachings they discovered far more of the beautv. 
harmony, and fulfilment of the word of God, than they ever did 
before, or ever would liave done without his instruction. And 
does he not now give his people to understand the doctrines of 
his word — does he not now daily open to us the scriptures — has 
he not given to us his Holy Spirit in order to make us more wise 
in the mysteries of his kingdom, — and are we not directed to seek 
for him in the field of divine truth as for hid treasure. Oh ? 
how much is there respecting Christ in this holy book, and who 
is so able to make us know it as himself— " he opens our under- 
standing that we may understand the scriptures — lie ever teaches 
his ministers to open and allege that Christ must needs have 
suffered and risen again from the dead, and that this Jesus 
whom we preach unto you is Christ," — as be taught his apostles 
to testify the kingdom of God, persuading men concerning Jesus, 
both out of the law of Moses, and out of the prophets, from 
morning till evening." Having then admired the conversation of 
our Lord with his disciples on the way to Emmaus, we notice 
n — The effects it produced in their minds. 
It was not at all probable that his discourse should be with- 
out effect, or fail deeply to interest their minds, since it was the 
very theme on which they chose to dwell ; and it was conducted 
in so wise and endearing a manner — it was such that according 
to their own confession, it made their hearts to burn within them 
while he talked with them by the way — and surely I need not 
say tliis was not the glow of shcune, lest they should be found 
in his company — No, brethren, they would not have cared who 
of all the great men of the land had met them in company with 
ihis most intelligent stranger — they felt themselves highly hon- 
oured by his company, even before they knew his name. Nor 
was this the heat of anger, or of any bad passion excited by any 
thing that he delivered — his communications were sweet, and 
soothing. Had they been so disposed, they could find nothing 
in them that was improper, untrue, or provoking ; — he talked 
with them as a man talks with his friend — the communion was 
sweet, and the intercourse highly gratifying ; hence, though 
their hearts burned within them, it was neither with shame, nov 



APPENDIX. 305 

anger. But this, brethren, permit me to say, was the glow of 
fixed surprise — of grateful feeling—of humble love, and— of holy 
animation of soul. Observe, it was the glow 

(1) of fixed surprise. 

They wondered much that he who appeared a stranger, not 
only to them, but also to the place where they were, should 
know so much about them — Jerusalem and Jesus ; they were 
astonished at his wisdom — at his eloquence. — I almost fancy that 
they exclaimed " Never man spake like this man." — With emo- 
tions of amazement, they perceived that his " word was quick, 
and powerful, and sharper than any two edged sword, piercing- 
even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints 
and marrow ; and that it is a discoverer of the thoughts and intents 
of the heart." With what prying eyes must they have looked 
upon him ; and yet not so as to behold him who he was, because 
himself had prevented it ; yet their hearts burned within them 
■—sentiments of unutterable admiration were hid in their breasts 
whilst he opened to them the scriptures. Again — it was the 
glow 

(2) of grateful feeling. 

They must have discovered that they were greatly indebted 
to this benevolent stranger, who had so effectually enlightened 
their judgments, and alleviated their sorrows. Their hearts 
burned within them with the sensation of thankfulness — they saw 
that he was a praise-worthy character, and, methinks, were devi- 
sing some acknowledgments for his attention to them, little 
thinking that it was the Lord. Did your hearts ever glow in 
this way with a sense of your utter incapability of making any- 
suitable returns to him that loved you, and revealed to you his 
will ? For your fellowship with him, have you ever said— what 
shall I render to the Lord ? Did you ever feel the high honour 
of being with Jesus— admitted into his presence, and being made 
partakers of his grace ? All your hearts, Christians, should glow 
with gratitude, and burn with love. Hence, we remark again, 
their hearts burned within them with the sensation 

(3) of humble love. 

*26 



306 APPENDIX. 

Finding as they did, that bis words « were found of them, and 
they did eat them," and they were to them the joy and the re- 
joicing of then- hearts, they manifested a strong attachment to 
him whom they supposed to be a new friend. He engaged their 
affections, hence they desired more of his company, and said, 
when their fears were excited lest he should depart from them 
— " Abide with us, for it is toward evening."— So do the hearts 
of the people of God burn within them to the present day, with 
like sensations, under similar enjoyments — the flame of divine 
love is kindled in their souls — the words of his mouth appear 
to them sweeter than the honey or the honeycomb ; — his doc- 
trine drops like the rain, and distils like the dew, and sensible 
that none teacheth like him, they admire and love him before all 
others. Oh ! how excellent a thing it is thus to love the Saviour. 
— Let it be our happiness to sit at his feet ; and with meekness re- 
ceive the ingrafted word of truth, which is able to save the soul, 
so shall its admirable Author rise daily more and more in our es- 
teem. Finally, it was the glow 
(4) of holy animation of soul. 

Divine light broke in upon their minds, and dispersed their 
remaining unbelief— they were elevated above 'the world to the 
contemplation of their adorable Redeemer. He touched their 
finest feelings — he filled their souls with the sublime joys of his 
salvation — he inspired them with pure devotion, and fixedness 
of heart — and while he led them to the consideration of Him who 
endured such contradiction of sinners against himself, he pre- 
vented them from being weary and fainting in their minds. And 
oh ! Christians, what sweet moments — rich in blessing — have 
vou enjoyed, when in converse with Immanuel. " Whether in 
the body, or out of the body," you have hardly been able to tell ; 
— drops of heaven have been bestowed upon you here below— the 
light of the Divine countenance has caused you to take your harp 
from the willows, and make every string speak to the praise of 
love divine. Did not your hearts burn within you ? Were you 
not like Peter on the mount, who, in an extacy of joy said, " Lord 
it is good to be here r" You anticipated the joys of the blessed, 
you -drank of the brook by the way, and seemed ready to depart 



APPENDIX 30? 

and to be with Christ, to drink wine new with liim, in the king- 
dom of his Father. This holy delight in God is real, and not en- 
thusiastic — it is bestowed only on the new bom heirs of grace, 
and it is given them as a pledge of joys to come— their hearts 
burn within them while he talks with them by the way. 

In reflecting on this subject we are struck with the idea that 

We often have to blame ourselves for not sufficiently estima- 
ting our mercies during the time of their continuance. 

These disciples, notwithstanding the pleasure they had found 
in his society, did not, till just as he left them, discover him to 
be their Lord — to the present day Joseph often knows his breth- 
ren, whilst they know him not. And then afterwards they say — 
did not our hearts burn within us ? True, they did. But why 
did not we value the blessing while we enjoyed it ? Why did we 
not say, as the words of wisdom dropped from his mouth, it is 
the Lord ? 

Again, a review of past favours greatly supports the mind un- 
der present bereavements. 

When we seem forsaken — when our affections towards Christ 
appear but cold, oh ! what a privilege it is to be enabled to re- 
vert to a period when our hearts did burn within us, while he 
talked with us by the way. This thought cheers the drooping 
spirits, and raises the fainting head ; it excites our hope too, that 
he will be with us again, and hold converse with us, even till 
the hour of death — yea, it makes us argue, that if the Lord had 
intended to destroy us, he would not have made our hearts burn 
within us b)* - his divine communications. 

It is the duty and interest of us all earnestly to pray for the 
society and conversation of Christ . 

The blessing itself is so desirable, for it is to have the honour 
of dwelling and walking with Christ- — and the sensations which he, 
by his discourse, excites in the mind, are so pleasing, and delight- 
ful, that we ought earnestly to beseech him to tarry with us — if 
he is an mstructer and companion, how short will the distance to 
heaven appear, and how light and momentary the trials of the 
way — Lastly, 



308 APPENDIX 

If those who travel with the Saviour, are thus blessed, how 
miserable are they who are altogether alienated from him. 

Sinners, you never yet enjoyed the society of Christ, nor do 
you wish it. You are loading him with reproaches, and will have 
none of his counsel, and he will never say of you " they shall walk 
with me in white, for they are worthy ;" the fever of lust, and 
the torment of envy shall be your curse, while you live in the 
pains of hell, your portion after death, when you will burn in 
" the fire that never can be quenched, and the smoke of your tor- 
ments shall ascend up forever and ever." Oh ! may we instead 
of this awful doom, be honoured and glorified with his constant 
presence in a better world — so shall the chosen of Nazareth be 
praised and adored by us forever and ever. 

No. IV. 
FAREWELL SERMON AT HOXTON. 

Acts XX. 24. * But none of these things move me, neither count 
I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course ivith 
joy, and the ministry -which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to 
testify the gospel of the grace of God* 

This is not the language of stoical apathy ; the man who ut- 
tered these words, my hearers, was a man possessed of the keen- 
est sensibility — a man of real, honest, and exquisite feeling ; — in 
his heart, cold indifference, and unfeeling stubbornness, had no 
place ; — nor do the words express philosophical heroism ; a fool- 
ish bravado ; for our apostle derives his support from sources 
far different from these : he was animated by principles ; he was 
delighted with prospects which the natural man never possess- 
es ; the power of which principles, and the view of which pros- 
pects, produce an effect which is mighty beyond all conception. 
The passage I have read you, introduces to our view Paul the 
preacher at the time of his departure from his friends, when his 
mind was led to expect, and prepared to meet bonds and afflic- 
tions in every place ; and the words of the text do most striking- 
ly shew us the way in which the principles of the gospel discov- 



APPENDIX. 3Q9 

er themselves, and prove their power to strengthen and support. 
Viewing this passage as not unsuitable to the present opportuni- 
ty, I shall exhibit it to your view, as shewing us that the prin- 
ciples of the gospel of Christ display their power and virtue 

I. In rendering us insensible to the power of affliction — " none 
of these things move me." 

II. In raising us superior to the love of life — "neither count I 
my life dear unto me, so that I may finish my course with joy, 
and the ministry which I have received of the Lord Jesus." Let 
us behold here the glorious gospel of the blessed God. How the 
religion of Christ displays its potent influence — its mighty effi- 
cacy 

I. In rendering us insensible to the power of affliction. Its 
supports enabled the holy zealous apostle to say of painful separ- 
ation — of the labours of the ministry,— and of the large measure 
of persecution which in that age of the church every where at- 
tended the preachers of the Gospel, " none of these things move 
me." Paul had, however, without doubt, the feelings of human- 
ity ; and as I have already intimated, these things would affect 
his soul as a man, and occasionally overwhelm bis spirits ; but 
when he telt the happy influence of the gospel in all its power, 
he triumphed over these difficulties ; he heroically conquered 
himself ; subdued his own feelings, and appeared a ready, a 
joyful martyr for Christ. Thus did Paul, yet did not he, but 
the grace of God which was in him. These trials, then, these 
difficulties, which to many would be insurmountable, did not 
" move" him ; that is, the anticipation of them, the endurance of 
them, did not so move him as to damp his ardour — as to discour- 
age his soul, or as to make him wish to exchange with the world. 
Observe, they did not so move him 

As to damp his ardour. These trials and apparent obstacles 
to the success of his work, and to his own happiness in it, did 
not make him less anxiously desirous of doing good in the world, 
did not at all diminish the fervent wishes of his soul to be the 
means of conducting many sons unto glory. Notwithstanding 
these difficulties, he was still " steadfast, immovable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as he knew that his 



310 APPENDIX. 

labour was not in Vain in the Lord." And as he had this minis- 
try, as he had received mercy, so he fainted not ; hence he could 
say to others — no man should be moved by these afflictions, for 
yourselves know that we were appointed thereunto. He remem- 
bered the long cloud of witnesses, who through much tribula- 
tion had entered the kingdom, and he determined to imitate their 
example ; he did more, he considered Jesus, who endured such 
contradiction of sinners against himself; and this prevented him 
from being weary, or from fainting in his mind : he looked unto 
Jesus the author and finisher of his faith, and by that means ob- 
tained encouragement to proceed, and grace sufficient for him. 
Oh ! never let the servants of the most high God relax in their 
endeavours to do good, or grow cold in their desires after the 
immortal welfare of mankind because some difficulties await 
them : of these difficulties they ought to say " none of these 
tilings move me." Nor did these trials so affect the apostle 

As to discourage his soul ; that is, to make him shrink at the 
thought of enduring them — to make him afraid to meet them — 
no — for, supported by the consolations of the gospel, he could 
welcome reproaches, pain and death ; yea, rejoice and be ex- 
ceeding glad that he was counted worthy to suffer for the sake 
of the Lord Jesus. ' AVhat mean ye,' says he elsewhere, ' what 
mean ye to weep and to break mine heart, for I am ready not to 
be bound only, but also to die at Jerusalem for the name of the 
Lord Jesus.' Divine grace so supported him, that though he was 
troubled on every side, he was not distressed ; though perplexed, 
he was not in despair ; though persecuted, he was not forsaken ; 
though cast down, he was not destroyed. I suffer, says he these 
things, nevertheless I am not ashamed, * for I know whom I have 
believed, and am persuaded that he is able to keep that which 
I have committed unto him, until that day.' Thus he could en- 
dure, and the Saviour enabled him to suffer as well as to preach 
for him, and none of these things moved him. 

Finally, they did not so move him as to make him wish to ex- 
change with the world. 

Because he thus reckoned, that the sufferings of this present 
life are not worthy to be compared with the glory that should 



APPENDIX. 311 

be revealed in us. He saw that * our light affliction, which is 
but for a moment, worketh out for us a far more exceeding and 
eternal weight of glory.' He looked not at the things which 
are seen, which are temporal, but at the things which are 
not seen, which are eternal. There was a pleasure even connect- 
ed with the sufferings which far excelled the joy of worldlings ; 
hence he says { l am filled with comfort , I am exceeding joyful 
in all our tribulation.' For the Lord stood by him and strength- 
ened him ; yea, the Lord delivered him from every evil work, 
and preserved him to his heavenly kingdom. The apostle, taught 
by the Spirit of God, loved even the difficulties of his Master's 
service far better than the ease and the pleasures of the world. 
Oh ! that like him, we may wisely count the reproach of Christ 
greater riches than all the treasures of this world— prefer even the 
worst, the most painful circumstances in the cause of the Sav- 
iour, to the most fascinating pleasures of the world — to the enjoy- 
ments which the men who know not God, reckon most valuable 
and most dear ; thus shall we shew that we are Willing to be any 
thing that the Saviour chooses, so that he may be glorified : 
thus shall we shew that we speak the feelings of our hearts, 
when we say of the difficulties of our work ' none of these things 
move me.' Thus was the apostle enabled to enjoy strong conso- 
lations in the midst of trials. Thus did Immanuel's grace quick- 
en him to diligence and fortify his mind against the numerous 
ills that flesh is heir to. Oh ! that the Spirit of glory and of 
God would rest on us also ; that all our duties may be so dis- 
charged, and all our trials so endured, as that the power of the 
gospel may be evinced, and the supporting grace of the great 
Head of the Church abundantly magnified. And what can so 
teach us to endure trials as the religion of Christ ? What sup- 
ports have infidels, mere moralists, and speculative philoso- 
phers, like those which may be derived from the fullness of our 
Lord Jesus Christ ? Theirs are refuges of lies, ours a never 
failing foundation. ' Their rock is not as our rock, even our 
enemies themselves being judges.' The gospel of Christ pre- 
sents the only sovereign balm for human wo ; it supplies us with 
real, and with sure support ; it emboldens us to say, in the face 



312 APPENDIX. 

of difficulties, dangers, and death, * None of these tilings move 
me.' The gospel, however, does not merely display its power 
in rendering us insensible to the power of affliction, but 
(II.) In raising us superior to the love of life. 
For, adds the apostle, ' neither count I my life dear unto my- 
self, so that I may finish my course with joy.' * Skin for skin, yea 
all that a man hath, will he give for his life.' The preservation 
of life is the first law of nature. That man is unworthy the char- 
acter of a rational being/ who intentionally shortens, or daringly 
terminates his own life. And yet here a man comes forward and 
says, c neither count I my life dear unto myself — and he is 
taught to form this estimation of life too, by the gospel of Jesus ! 
How is this ? The apostle did not choose strangling rather than 
life ; but the case may be stated thus. The gospel taught him 
the right use of life, and made him earnestly to desire to fulfil 
it : the gospel taught him as a minister, that life was only valua- 
ble to him so far as he accomplished its purposes — the joyful com- 
pletion of his Christian race, the honourable close of his ministe- 
rial exertions. Further than this, life was not dear to him, or 
highly pr'.zed by him, for he was willing to be * absent from the 
body, and to be present with the Lord.' His earnest expectation 
and his hope was, that in nothing he should be ashamed, but 
that * with all boldness, as always, so now Christ should be 
magnified in his body, whether it were by life or by death. 5 
* Yea,' says he, ' and if I be offered upon the sacrifice and ser- 
vice of your faith, I joy and rejoice with you all.' Oh ! what a 
noble principle is this that renders a man willing to suffer and 
to d.e for Christ, * for herein perceive we the love of God, be- 
cause he laid down his life for us ; and we ought also to lav- 
down our lives for the brethren.' And now it is said of the apos- 
tle, and all who like him triumphed over Satan, * they were 
faithful unto death.' They overcome him by the blood of the 
Lamb, for they loved not their lives unto death. But I digress 
from the subject. Observe, then, that the gospel raised the 
mind of Paul superior to the love oflife, as it shewed him that 
it was only useful for two purposes : 

(T) That he might joyfully complete his Christian race. So 



APPENDIX. 313 

he says, « that I may finish my course with joy.' The course to 
which he alludes is the Christian race, which he had some time 
before undertaken in divine strength. God had called him so to 
run, that he might obtain, and hence he * laid aside every weight, 
and the sin which so easily beset him, and ran with patience the 
race set before him, looking unto Jesus.' He set out with a full 
determination never to grow weary, or to decline his eager pur- 
suit after glory, honour and immortality. Hitherto he had pur- 
sued it with alacrity ; he did not count himself to have appre- 
hended; but this one thing he did, forgetting those things 
which were behind, and reaching forth unto those things which 
were before, he pressed toward the mark for the prize of the 
high calling of God in Christ Jesus. Personal religion had flour- 
ished in his soul, and he had not left the path marked out for 
him, by the great forerunner, to be led aside either to the right 
hand or to the left, and now he wished to finish it with joy, and 
that man finishes his course with joy when he expresses gratitude 
for any ardour he has discovered in it, and when he has a full 
view ©f the crown of glory, and prospect of eternal rest. To fin- 
ish ©ur course with joy, we must express our gratitude for the 
assistance grace has offered us in it. [When a Christian can 
say, through the good hand of my God upon me, the care of his 
love, and the animation of his grace, * I have finished my course.'] 
Oh ! what pleasure it must afford a believer who completes his 
race on earth, to look back upon the path he has trod, and to re- 
member even the trials he endured, and to bless God that he was 
enabled to persevere to the end. The Christian race cannot be 
joyfully completed without a bright prospect of eternal glory 
and a splendid crown. The man finished this race with joy 
who could say, ' henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of 
righteousness, which- the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give 
me in that day.' Let others run to obtain a corruptible crown, 
we do it for an incorruptible. And oh ! that when we finish our 
course it may be with this firm persuasion,^ that we shall enter 
into the joy of our Lord, where toil and fatigue will be known 
no more. For this purpose life is of use, as it conducts us to* 
or 



(3J4 APPENDIX. 

the end of the Christian race. But the apostle views himself 
not only as a Christian but as a minister of the New Testament, 
and therefore he views life as desirable 

(2) That he might honourably close his ministerial exertions. 
That I may finish, says he my course with joy, and the ministry 
v. hich I have received of the Lord Jesus. Here you behold the 
author of the gifts and the graces of ministers « the Lord Jesus.' 
The Lord had said of Paul, 'he is a chosen vessel unto me to 
bear my name unto the Gentiles.' And he had received his min- 
istry of the Lord Jesus. The subjects of his ministry came 
from him, or he taught him to preach human depravity — the 
atonement of Christ, and the influence of the Spirit, and to be 
witness unto all, for Jesus, of what he had seen and heard. His 
call to the ministry was from the Lord Jesus. He told him to 
publish the gospel, and immediately he conferred not with flesh 
and blood. He was an apostle not of man, nor by man, but by 
Jesus Christ and God the Father. His qualifications for the 
ministry came from the Lord Jesus — he gave hum a freedom of 
speech — he made him apt to teach — he furnished him with wisdom 
and knowledge — he made him a minister that needed not be 
ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. His success in the 
ministry was from the Lord Jesus — he made him fruitful, and he 
made him useful — he opened the hearts of his hearers — he at- 
tended his message with the power of his Spirit — he gave testi- 
mony to the word of his grace. Thus he assisted him in his 
work — owned him as an honoured servant, nor suffered him to 
labour in vain, or spend his strength for nought. Now, he wishes 
to close this ministry with joy. He does not want to leave it — 
to quit it for worldly ease ; but to go on in it to the end of his 
life. He does not wish to grow weary in well doing ; but to per- 
severe to the last ; and thus finishing his work, he would do it with 
joy, as he would review instances of usefulness, and behold the 
grace of the Lord of the harvest, in raising up more labourers to 
enter into his vineyard. A minister closes his work with joy, 
when he reviews instances of usefulness, when he knows that 
there are many whom he may view as his joy and crown of re- 
joicing—that he shall have to say of a goodly number, here am 



APPENDIX $14 

I, Father, and the children which thou hast given me. Thus our 
Lord rejoiced at the close of his labours, saying", ' I have given 
them thy word — I have finished the work which thou gavest me 
to do.' So also does the good minister finish his course with joy, 
when he beholds other labourers crowned with success in the 
vineyard — when he dies with the full confidence that Z ion's glory 
increases, and that the work of the Lord is promoted. He re- 
joices that others shall enter into his labours, and that by their 
exertions, the Saviour will be honoured when he is cold in dust. 
Thus he rejoices, that instead of the fathers, he raises up the 
children, and that the Saviour's name shall be known to all gene- 
rations. Happy man ; like Simeon, thou shalt depart in peace- 
like him, thou shalt have the Saviour enclosed in thine arms, and 
eternal glory full in thy view. 

Let those of us who are aged in the ministry imitate the apos- 
tle's example. 

Students be diligent — honour Christ, and the Holy Spirit—* 
aim sincerely to do good — be not afraid of difficulties — let us go 
on, &c. &c. 

In so doing, we shall both save ourselves and those that hear 
us. Amen, 

No. V. 

ADDRESS AT LAYING THE FOUNDATION-STONE OF 
THE NEW CHAPEL. 

e And this stone, which I have set for a pillar, shall be God's 
house* So said the patriarch Jacob on a memorable occasion, 
and so may we say, assembled as we are to lay the foundation- 
stone of an edifice to God. We have found out a place for the 
Lord — an habitation for the mighty God of Jacob : beholding this 
spot of ground on this interesting morning, a thousand delight- 
ful sensations pervade our souls, and we are ready to anticipate 
the presence of the Great Eternal in this place, or * is not this 
the hill which God hath chosen to dwell in it forever ?' Let us 
please ourselves with believing, that here holy incense shall as- 



316 APPENDIX. 

cend to God — that from this place the voice of prayer and praise 
shall rise tuneful to the court of heaven — that here pious men 
shall enjoy the sublime happiness of devotion — that here the un- 
godly and the sinner shall be induced to begin their lives anew. 
How often may many have to say, on the very ground we tread, 
' How dreadful is this place ! this is none other than the house of 
God, and the gate of heaven.' The master of worshipping as- 
semblies, Jehovah, by whose call congregations assemble, and by 
whose blessing their souls are benefitted, may here afford his 
Watchful care, his animating smiles : we have every reason to be- 
lieve he will do it, entreated by the earnest and fervent supplica- 
tions of the men he loves ; himself inclined to bless the gates of 
Zion, his eyes and his heart shall be here perpetually ; with 
pleasure will he behold the favoured spot ; and in the liberality 
of his heart afford to his assembled saints an earnest, a foretaste, 
a lively representation of what those happy spirits know and feel 
who are ever with the Lord. 

We flatter ourselves, that the erection of an edifice like this is 
the effect of benevolent feeling to mankind, and an ardent love 
to the Great Lord of all. We unite in endeavouring to main- 
tain the honour of the Saviour's name, and to support the glory 
of his cross. We feel, and deeply too, the necessity of posess- 
ing somewhat more than this earth can afford : we regard men 
as immortals, and we know that there are blessings, without 
the enjoyment of which, those souls will experience continued 
disappointment here, and will languish forever in another world. 
These necessary and holy blessings, the Eternal has chosen to 
communicate by the instrumentality of a preached gospel. We 
know that Jehovah, in making up the number of his elect, works 
by means ; therefore it is that we endeavour to bring that gospel, 
the report of which is indeed a joyful sound, to the ears of man- 
kind, praying that the blessed Spirit would send it to their hearts. 
The erection of this place is a direct attack against— against 
whom ? say my hearers, alarmed at the idea of hostility— against 
the Church of England ? No ! God forbid ; the very reverse of all 
this. We cheerfully take the present opportunity of informing 
this numerous auditory, that the doctrines which will be pro- 



APPENDIX. 31? 

claimed on this ground will exactly correspond, will be just 
the same, with those contained in the doctrinal articles of the 
Church of England, which are the bulwarks of its faith, and may 
be read in most of the Books of Common Prayer. Is it, then, you 
ask again, an attack against any other congregation, or body of 
professsing Christians ? My soul revolts and spurns at the idea ; 
for in the cause of Immanuel we wish cordially and constantly 
to unite with all those who believe in the Lord Jesus, both 
theirs and ours. But in one word, this is an attack directed 
against the kingdom of Satan, and the prince of darkness. Its 
object is the translation of our fellow creatures from his hate- 
ful power and dominion, and their transition into the family of 
the blessed household of their Redeemer. With the sword of 
the Spirit we wish to combat the old serpent the devil. In 
this large and populous town he has maintained his seat, he has 
reigned and triumphed : we long to see him fall, like lightning 
from heaven ; and hence we preach that glorious gospel, which 
opposes his works, which rescues from his power, which gives 
us to expect a final triumph over him and his followers. 

Here we expect that the preaching of the cross will be heard 
— that self righteousness will in no shape meet with encourage- 
ment — that man will be represented as nothing, and Christ as 
all in all. We erect no altar to an unknown God, but are bold- 
ly confesssing, that we wish every day to approach the Father 
of spirits, through the mediation of God our Saviour, and all 
this by the gracious aid of the Holy Spirit. And are any of us 
so hardened, through the deceitfulness of sin, as not to wish 
that here many souls may be born to God— may be trained up 
for heaven ; or shall we not, at the last great day, rejoice to 
see a goodly company of men, who on this spot shall have met 
with the Saviour Jesus, and commenced an honourable path to 
heaven. We rejoice in the thought, that the cause is God's, 
and must prevail, and with pleasure we celebrate the growing 
empire of our King. His church must flourish, because it is 
purchased with his blood, and preserved by his grace. The 
names of the several denominations among which it is scattered 
*27 



318 APPENDIX. 

may be lost and forgotten, but its numbers shall increase, aiiel 
its honours spread to the end of time. 

The Episcopalian church may totter to the ground ; the Pres- 
byterian church may be known no more ; the Independent 
church may no longer exist as a separate body ; but the true 
church, made up of many of all these, and confined to no one 
of them, shall increase yet more and more, and ever be ac- 
knowledged the Zion of the Lord, the city of the Holy One of 
Israel. 

This morning have we cause for gratitude, that amidst the 
spread of infidelity, and a vain philosophy, the work of God is 
not forgotten j that still his churches- rise and flourish ; that 
still souls are born to God, and the saint9 shout aloud for joy. 
In the sanctuaries where we worship, we have the solace of our 
cares, a kind refreshptient afforded us in our journey to heaven, 
• and new light and joy bestowed. May all this be known 
amongst us — be known by posterity when we are cold in death. 
1 cannot lose sight of the opportunity which this morning 
affords me, of assuring this large and mixed assembly, that real 
religion is a personal thing ; that the gospel we preach must be 
believed, and its consolations enjoyed, or there remains for us 
no hope of pardon or of peace. My fellow immortals you have 
all sinned, and come short of the glory of God r but we exhib- 
it to you a blessed and perfect Redeemer !' Believe in him, and 
you shall not be confounded world without end. And when 
I meet you in an assembly far larger and more solemn than this, 
-I mean at the judgment day, you shall be accepted of him ; yea, 
believing in him, you shall then enter a temple, not made with 
hands eternal in the heavens ; and forever adore the hand that 
formed it, the grace that conducted us to it, and the Saviour 
who fills it with his glory. Amen * 

* This is evidently but a rude outline of what -was delivered on 
tJtctt interesting' occasion. The effect produced upon the immense 
auditory -which he addressed tuas remarkably strong — and every 
effect must have an adequate cause. 



APPENDIX. 319 

On Wednesday, May 29, 1812, the Chapel was solemnly ded- 
icated to God. On this interesting occasion, the Rev. P. S. Char- 
rier, of Bethseda chapel, Liverpool, commenced the morning ser- 
vice by reading a suitable portion of scripture, and offering up a 
solemn and appropriate prayer. The Rev. William Jay, of Bath, 
delivered a sermon from Psalm cxxii. 6, f They shall prosper that 
love thee.* The Rev. Mr. Lister, of Lime-street chapel, conclud- 
ed by prayer. In the evening, the service was opened by reading 
of the scriptures and prayer, by the Rev. Jos. Fletcher, A. M. of 
Blackburn. The Rev. Dr. Collyer, of Peckham, preached from 
1 John iv. 8. < God is love' The Rev. Mr. Kershaw, ofEding- 
burgh, concluded by prayer. 



No. VI. 

MR. SPENCER'S ANSWERS TO THE QUESTIONS PRO- 
POSED TO HIM, AT HIS ORDINATION. 

What motives have induced you to enter upon the important tvork 
of the Christian JSfinistry ? 

As the religion of the Bible appears in my estimation the best 
blessing Jehovah has bestowed upon the w orld, I, from the hum- 
ble hope that it has shed its influence on my own heart, am im- 
pressed with an earnest wish to be the instrument of conveying 
its holy advantages to my fellow immortals ! I say from the 
hope that I am interested in its blessings ; for in no one senti- 
ment am I more fully established, than that the ministers of God 
should be men of God ; that personal religion is a most indis- 
pensable requisite in all who grasp at the honour of being the 
servants of Christ and his churches. That it has pleased God, 
who separated me from my mother's womb, to call me by his 
grace, and reveal his Son in me, I am led to hope, or I dare not 
think of the Christian ministry ! From my earliest infancy, hav- 
ing been blest with a religious education, my mind was power- 
fully impressed with the solemnities of death and judgment : 
and often have such impressions been the means of drawing me 



320 APPENDIX 

to earnest secret prayer, . at a very early period of my existence. 
Yet did I, as I advanced in age and stature, give proofs, awfully 
evident, frequently since distressing to my mind, of the dread- 
ful depravity of my nature, and of the necessity of that great 
change, which I then accurately judged had not really passed 
on my soul. But God remembered me in mercy ! The Holy 
Spirit made use of the preaching of the gospel at Hertford by va- 
rious ministers of our own denomination, as also by several in the 
connexion of the late Countess of Huntingdon, to enlighten 
my mind in the knowledge of him ; gradually he drew me to 
himself; and, I trust, imparted to me, for my best treasure, his 
love in my heart, the salvation of Christ, with its attendant bles- 
sings. Viewing n^self, then, as a young sinner, blest with spe- 
cial favours, I determined I would not live to myself, but to 
Him who I believed had loved me, and given himself for me. I 
cast myself upon his care; I implored his direction as to my fu- 
ture steps ; I longed to be engaged in the holy ministry, yet 
God is my record that I trembled at the idea of rushing into his 
service ; of assuming, with daring temerity, a character I was 
so unfit to bear. I resolved that I would wait for the direction 
of his providence, and then go on in his strength. Christian 
friends urged me to devote myself to the work of the Lord ; my 
own mind eagerly seconded their proposals ; yet the considera- 
tion of my youth, and the dread that I was unprepared for the 
employment, held me back from the attempt, till after a little 
while my acquaintance with Mr. Thomas Wilson commenced : 
encouraged by him in the hope that I might be a labourer for 
God, I commenced preparatory studies for the ministry, under 
the direction of my honoured friend, the Rev. William Hordle, 
of Harwich, and, recommended by him, entered the seminary at 
Hoxton. Thus, Sir, a persuasion of the great importance of the 
preaching of the gospel, a consciousness that God had imparted 
to me that tone of mind which seemed adapted to the employ- 
ment, the earnest wishes of intelligent and useful Christians, 
the clear and evident direction of divine Providence, and, I hope, 
the glow of zeal for the honour of our glorious Redeemer and 



APPENDIX. 321 

the good of man, united together to direct my [coming] to the 
ministry of the word. 

Why do you choose to exercise your- Ministry among Protestant 
Dissenters ? 
The close alliance of the church [of England with the] state, 
were there no other argument against it, would be enough to 
influence my mind in refusing to enter within its pale. But my 
conscience also objects to many of the terms of communion it 
imposes, and its acknowledgment of a human head ; to several 
of its prescribed ceremonies, which appear to me unlike the 
simplicity that is in Christ, and very unnatural characteristics 
of a kingdom which cannot be of this world. Yet, while these 
are my decided sentiments, I shall always respect and love the 
zealous followers of the Lamb, whom Heaven acknowledges, as 
his friends among the members of the established church- May 
grace, mercy, and peace, ever be with them ; may the work of 
God succeed among them. From all that I can collect from the 
New Testament, it appears obvious to me, that all that is meant 
by a church of Christ, is a company of faithful men determining 
to unite together in his faith and service — bowing to his direc- 
tions — submissively yielding themselves up to him — and resolv- 
ing to walk in all his ordinances and commandments, blameless ! 
These churches are, I believe, to be found among those of the 
congregational order, and therefore I am united to them. 

What are the principal topics on -which you mean to insist in your 
future ministrations ? 
My earnest ambition, Sir, is to declare the -whole counsel of 
God and to give to every one his portion of meat in due season. 
In order that this may be effectually done, I know that the Me- 
diator's excellencies must be particularly displayed, and the 
glories of the cross largely insisted on. I intend, Sir, in humble 
dependence on the strength of Christ, without regarding either 
the smiles or the frowns of man, to endeavour to approve my- 
self the faithful servant of God. In my discourses, Christ shall 
be all in all. His person, work, and great salvation, shall be 



322 APPENDIX. 

constantly exhibited in their bearings, upon every part of the 
scheme of religion I have beheld in the Bible, and admired. 
The solemn truth, that man is totally depraved, and altogeth- 
er defiled by sin ; the necessity of regeneration ; the suitable- 
ness of the atonement our Lord has made ; the nature and bles- 
sedness of the influences of the Holy Spirit ; the various conso- 
lations and directions contained in the gospel of Christ, shall all 
be illustrated and discussed in my ministry, according to the 
ability Jehovah shall bestow. The doctrines of grace shall 
maintain a high precedence in all my ministrations : yet will I, 
with the most industrious care, labour to shew that they are 
doctrines according to godliness. The holiness of the religion 
of Christ shall be enforced from every subject. Thus will I hu 
hour to secure the approbation of God, to preserve an honest and 
good conscience, to promote the glory of the great and precious 
Redeemer of sinners, and to win souls to Christ. The terrors of 
the Lord shall be declared to the ungodly ; the sure support of 
our covaiant Lord shall be preached to the faithful ; and Chriet 
shall be preached to all. 

CONFESSION OF FAITH. 

I do, Sir, with pleasure, in the presence of this congregation, 
deliver to you the sentiments I hold dear to my heart, and those 
views of the truth as it is in Jesus ; which, having imbibed my- 
self, I intend to communicate to my fellow men. The senti- 
ments I hold, I trace up to their source when I mention the Bible, 
the book of God, which holy volume, attested by every evidence 
that consistency, dignity, purity, miracles and divine effects can 
afford, I receive as the standard of truth, as God's revelation of 
his own mind and will to men. Regarding the Bible, then, as 
able to make us wise unto salvation, I receive as positive and 
important truths, all that it teaches concerning God, the worid s 
salvation, heaven and hell. I believe, then, from the testimony 
of divine truth, that God is a spirit, holy, infinite, unchangeable, 
and perfect in all the attributes of deity. That in the Godhead,, 
there are three divine and glorious persons, equal in power and 



APPENDIX. 323 

honour—the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. This sub- 
lime mystery I dare not attempt to explain ; because I know, 
that we cannot by searching- find out God, nor trace the Almighty 
to perfection. Yet do I most cordially receive the fact, admi- 
ring the various parts each of them has undertaken in the econo- 
my of our salvation, and adoring a triune God as the proper ob- 
ject of Christian worship. I believe that Jehovah's omniscience 
foresaw from all eternity all the events that should take place 
in the universe, and that he orders all things after the counsel 
of his own will. I believe that his almighty power created all 
the things that do appear, ,and still supports and upholds them 
in the state of existence in which he has wisely placed them. 
I believe that the persons in the Godhead did, foreseeing the 
fall and ruin of Adam and his posterity, enter into a covenant 
engagement with each other, that through their grace, the lost 
rebel might be restored to divine favour and friendship, and to 
communion with the whole Trinity. In this covenant, I believe 
all the blessings of grace are deposited for all the faithful ; 
Christ is its surety. He has made that atonement this covenant 
secured, and the blessed Spirit communicates the happy effects 
of it to the souls of all good men. It was by virtue of the ar- 
rangement of this covenant that Christ appeared once in the 
end of time, to put away sin by the sacrifice of himself. Grad- 
ual discoveries of his glory have been made to the Jewish church ; 
but at length he came to redeem Jacob, to ransom him out of 
the hand of him that was stronger than he. By his sufferings, 
his obedience unto death, and the whole of his mediatorial work, 
I believe he has purchased the church ; redeemed and saved the 
goodly company of men, who by the Eternal Father were for 
this purpose given into his hands before time began. And hav- 
ing on earth finished the work given him to do, I believe that he 
ascended to glory, sat down at the right hand of the Majesty 
on high, and ever liveth to make intercession for sinners, that 
their corruptions may be purified, their graces may be matured, 
and they be finally with him, where he is, to behold his glory. I 
believe that the Holy Spirit works on the human mind, when the 
time, the set time, to favour the individual, is come ; that he af- 



324 APPENDIX. 

fects the heart with compunction for sin ; that by the instrumen 
tality of the gospel, he calls the sinner out of darkness into mar- 
vellous light; that by the influence of divine truth, he sanctifies 
the soul ; that by the application of the promises of scripture, 
and by his own internal witness, he gives strong consolation to 
the heirs of God, for such I consider those whom he has convin- 
ced of sin, and led to Jesus ; called, enlightened, sealed, and es- 
tablished, they give evidence of a divine work upon their souls, 
by appearing in the beauties of holiness ; by adorning the doc- 
trine of God, their Saviour, in all things ; such characters I be- 
lieve that Jehovah views as his church on earth ; his family be- 
low, only separated by death from the blest society above ; and 
for their sakes all nature stands; to promote their present 
and eternal happiness, the gospel was published in the world ; 
ministers have been commissioned to serve the Lord, and quali- 
fied for the office ; separate churches have been raised ; the 
ordinances of Christ's appointment, viz. the Lord's supper admin- 
istered to believers in Jesus ; and Baptism, designed for those 
who from heathen countries were proselyted to the Christian 
faith, -and for all the infants of believers — have been preserved 
amongst us. In their hearts, the fruits of grace must abound ; 
they must walk with God, and be conformed to the divine im- 
age. Such characters must I believe, endure to the end, and be 
saved; their perseverance, I consider as resting on the power of 
God, on the nature of the covenant — Divine faithfulness, and 
the very tendency of the principles of grace. I consider jus- 
tification from sin ; the pardon of every offence ; the gradual 
sanctification of the soul, and its preparation for heaven, as all 
blessings of grace, freely bestowed upon the unworthy ; obtain- 
ed without money and without price. I view the preaching of 
the gospel as God's appointed means for the translation of sinners 
from darkness to light, and for the edification of his mystical 
body, the church, by the exhibition of Christ crucified, it had 
pleased God to save them that believe. 

Through the grace of God, every humble believer will, I know, 
eventually appear before the Saviour in glory everlasting. To 
inat state of joy and felicity, I believe all real Christians to be 



APPENDIX. 325 

daily tending ; and am happily persuaded, from the testimony of 
God, that those who serve him here shall reign with him above. 
Hence the spirit of a good man, when it is separated from the 
body, is by its beloved Saviour, received to the final dwelling of 
the just, where it waits for the time appointed for the trumpet 
to sound, and the dead to be raised, to be again united to the body, 
then glorified, and made like the body of the Redeemer. 

I anticipate Sir, the last judgment— I believe that God is com- 
ing to vindicate the right of his own government ; to declare 
the equity of his holy providence, at which we have in our ig- 
norance often murmured ; to banish the impenitent, the unholy, 
and all who would not obey the gospel, into torments, more aw- 
ful than we can ever imagine, and lasting as the existence of 
the soul. On that day, Sir, I believe that we shall give an ac- 
count of ourselves unto God, and if found clothed in the Medi- 
ator's righteousness, we shall be declared approved of God, and 
welcomed to the joys of heaven. This, Sir, is the outline of what 
I conceive to be the faith delivered to the saints ; these are the 
fixed principles I have cordially received myself, and intend to 
make known to others. Oh ! that my faith in them may be ope- 
rative and influential, in supporting my mind under the severe, 
sharp trials, with which my Father in heaven has thought fit to 
exercise me ; and may I be enabled, in simplicity and godly sin- 
cerity, to declare these truths to the people of my charge. 

In the presence of God, then, his holy angels, those his servants 
in the ministry, and this assembled congregation, I resign myself, 
my body and soul, my ministry, my all, to the care and protection 
of the Great Head of the Church. 

* The Lord God of my fathers be with me, as he was with 
them : let him not leave me, nor forsake me.' And I most earn- 
estly and humbly request the prayers of my own congregation, of 
my brethren and fathers in the ministry, and of all who witness 
these solemnities, that God would enable me to fulfil the duties of 
my sphere, that he would ever preserve me from backsliding in 
religion, that he would fix my wayward heart, and preserve it 
alive to God ; that the ministry be not blamed. 

28 



526 APPENDIX. 

I do solemnly determine, as far as in me lies, to live to his glo- 
ry ; to set a watch over my temper, speech and deportment, that 
they may not disgrace the gospel of Christ. I purpose, relying 
on the all-sufficient grace of the Master whom I serve, that I 
will be instant in season and out of season ; that I will reprove, 
rebuke, exhort with all long suffering- ; that I will labour as for 
God, and as in the immediate prospect of eternity. May he as- 
sist me to instruct the ignorant — to cheer and direct the sick 
;.nd the dying — to influence the young to rise and follow Christ 
— and to do real and extensive good in this large and populous 
town ; and when I have done the labours allotted for me below, 
after having spent a holy and an useful life— oh ! may I but hear 
the Lord say, * well done, good and faithful servant, enter into 
the joy of thy Lord.' Amen. 



ADDITIONAL PAPERS. 

FROM THE SECOND ENGXISH EDITION. 

NO. vn. 

I think that it must have been apparent from the preceding 
narrative, that Spencer's great object was usefulness. He seem- 
ed in his pursuits to be perfectly insensible to the influence of 
every other principle, than the love of Christ, and the souls of 
men. Hence if he attained not to the same eminence in litera- 
ture with some of his own age and standing, it is not to be at- 
tributed either to the want of opportunities or of talents. A 
mind richly endowed, and naturally ardent, as was his, might 
have attained any object to which it had consecrated its superi- 
or powers. Spencer early selected his. To this he devoted all 
the faculties of his soul. His mind seemed never for a moment 
diverted from it ; and in this, as might be expected, he excell- 
ed. He neither was nor wished to be accounted a great scholar. 



APPENDIX. 327 

A gentleman, intimately acquainted with Spencer, and formerly 
a student in the same institution, and whose estimate of his char- 
acter and talents is, perhaps, as correct as any that has been 
formed, after speaking of the inferiority of his critical and clas- 
sical attainments, which certainly bore no proportion to his em- 
inence as a preacher adds, " Do not suppose that I am endeav- 
ouring to depreciate him by these remarks. I am far from doing 
it ; and I think that when you take into view what was his main 
object, and what were the high v^ews which occupied every pow- 
er of his soul, they will be found to increase rather than detract 
from his eminence. It was his glory to be ignorant of other and 
inferior things, if thereby he was becoming more acquainted 
with those which made for his peace, and the peace of thousands 
who were benefited by his early ministry. It will never after 
this be surmised, that his want of proficiency in what is called 
learning, was owing to any want of ability to acquire it. It was 
to be attributed to the same cause which induced him to refuse 
an exhibition to Glasgow in my hearing — a love of doing good, 
and a conviction of the shortness of his day. I am far from be- 
ing one of those unreasonable persons, who when they find a man 
rising to distinction in one part of his intellectual character, ex- 
pect that he should be equally prominent in every other." 

The justice of these remarks, and the additional light they 
shed upon the character of Spencer, must be my apology for 
their introduction here. 

No. VDX 

ADDITIONAL LETTERS. 

Letter I 

TO MR. GEORGE MEDLEY. 

Dorking, July 21st, 18Q9. 
U Yeht deah Sir, 

" It has occasioned me no small anxiety, that since 
I have been at this place, I have heard nothing of you. 'Tis true, 
indeed that I engaged to write to you, but I have been expecting 



328 APPENDIX, 

that you would have called here before now, on jour way to 
Brighton. 

" I need not tell you, how happy I should be to see you, nor 
what real pleasure my kind hostess would feel in entertaining' 
you at her house. 

" Since I have been at Dorking, my time has been fully occu- 
pied by a variety of engagements. Preaching, walking, reading, 
and society, have all urged their claims upon me, and each, re- 
ceived a measure of attention. I have reason to hope, that the 
Lord of the harvest will bless his word, as he enables me to de- 
liver it to the congregation. The greatest attentions are paid 
me ; nor do I anticipate the day of separation from them with 
an}- pecidiar sentiments of pleasure. Motives for humility and 
lowliness of mind continually rush in upon me, and wretched in- 
deed shall I be, if suffered to fall into pride, — that " condemna- 
tion of the devil." 

" The vicinity of this town is remarkably pleasant : in my 
walks I am sometimes led to see, how the azure skies, meander- 
ing streams, flowry meads, and rising hills, all show forth the 
eternal power and Godhead of the Saviour by whom all things 
were created ; and how they all serve, in one way or other, to 
recommend him, and set forth his unrivalled excellence, while 
they acknowledge him as their sole proprietor, for " he is Lord 
of all." 

" I hope that you enjoy the blessings of his new creating pow- 
er, and find that he who first created in you a right spirit, still 
puts his fear into your heart, as your best defence against every 
danger, and as your effectual preventative against departing from 
him. 

a In your requests to the God of his saints, " remember me," 
that he may bestow upon me such blessings as shall render me a 
lively Christian, a faithful friend, and a useful minister: nor 
would I, when I bow my knees before our father who is in heav- 
en forget to pray for you, to whom I am so much indebted, and 
who may well consider me as 

" Your's, most affectionately, 

"THOMAS SPENCER." 



APFENDIX. 329 

Letter II. 

TO THE SAME. 

« Liverpool, July 12th, 1810. 

u Mr dear Friend, 

" I am sure you will be glad to hear from me, and 
therefore make no scruple of troubling- you with a line. In this 
distant part of the kingdom, it affords me great pleasure to re- 
collect that I have, though far away, excellent friends who sin- 
cerely regard me, and anxiously watch over my best interests, — 
and, I am happy to say, you are. among the first of my constant 
cordial Christian friends. Oh ! that both of us may enjoy the 
sweet friendship of him who having " loved his own which were 
in the world, loved them to the end." 

" I suppose you know, that an unexpected scene of affliction 
was opened to me before I left town, and it still sends forth bit- 
ter waters. 'Tis hard to see and to acknowledge that, whilst 
clouds and darkness are around him, righteousness and judgment 
are the habitation of his seat. We, alas ! are too apt to murmur 
at the holy providence of that God, who does as he pleases in 
heaven and in earth, and who will hereafter make us know that 
he does all things well. 

" Pray for me, that I may be enabled to say, * I know, O Lord, 
that thy judgments are right, and that in faithfulness thou hast 
afflicted me.' My journey to this place was most tiresome and 
fatiguing. I am treated with every possible mark of attention. 
My preaching is well attended ; may it be crowned with the real 
blessing" of our God. To such a request I know your piety will 
lead you to add Amen. I may possibly remain here four more 
Sabbaths : I wish however to stay but three. 

" At first I found it disagreeable to have no old friends 

to converse with at this place ; but such separations are necessa- 
ry, and if sanctified, have a tendency to drive us nearer to the 
Saviour, the only source of permanent happiness. At his throne 
we may always unbosom ourselves ; and when consolation does 
not come from our fellow creatures, we must look for it from 
*28 



330 APPENDIX. 

him, e who is a present help in time of trouble.' How sweet is 
the thought, that his ear is ever open to our requests, wherever 
we may be, and that he can always supply our wants. Farewell, 
my dear friend ; may you enjoy the choicest blessings a cove- 
nant God can give. Your affectionate friend, 

"THOMAS SPENCER. '* 



Letter IH. 

TO MR. N. H— 

« Mi dear Sir, 



" I have thankfully to acknowledge the receipt of 
your kind letter. I am grieved to hear that sickness has entered 
your habitation, and sorrow oppressed the heart of your valuable 
partner. Oh ! may you find, that Jehovah mingles mercy with 
judgment, and that he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the 
children of men. Pray earnestly, my dear Sir, for a spirit of re- 
signation to the will of God, and confidence in the disposal of 
him who must do right. ' What I do, 5 says our best friend, « thou 
knowestnot now, but thou shalt know hereafter.' Oh ! for faith 
in his wisdom and his care. I am ill qualified to suggest much 
that will be of use to you in your present trial ; and I hope you 
have proved before now the sympathy of the Saviour, who feels 
with his people in all their sorrows, and whose strong arm can 
support them in every trial ; thus your experience will lead you 
afresh to apply to him now, and repose your confidence in him 
for ever. 

" Take care that you mention to Mrs. H. the stability of the 
covenant of grace, which remains still rich in its treasures, and 
secure in its blessings, though our comforts fail us, and our hope 
decays. Tell her that Christ lives still, and that he lives for he? 
as a believer in him, and that no affliction can separate from his 
love. Tell her that in all these dispensations, he has kind ends 
to answer, which if we do not discover on this side eternity, we 
shall know well and gratefully acknowledge when we enter that 
holy, that large family above, where neither disease nor death 
ever approach. I earnestly desire, I would frequently pray, that 



APPENDIX. 331 

she may have grace to commit the child into the hands of Christ, 
who once said, of such is the kingdom of heaven ; and should it 
be his holy will to remove this darling of your heart to his own 
arms in glory, may she and you, still taugh s by divine grace, and 
supported by divine love, say — I was dumb, and opened not my 
mouth, because thou didst it. God can teach us to adore and 
bless, even for dispensations which we cannot understand. 

" My own mind is now often painfully exercised by the idea 
of leaving the society of those who have possessed a large share 
of my heart, for a place so distant as Liverpool. On this sub- 
ject, I have felt more than I can possibly express. Pray for me, 
that I may be enabled to commit myself, and those I love, unto 
the kind care of our Father in heaven. 

" For the present farewell : present my respects to our friends, 

and believe me sincerely your's, 

"THOMAS SPENCER.* 



Letter IV. 
TO MR. GEORGE MEDLEY. 

Liverpool, May 12th, 1811. 

" Ml VERY DEAR FRIEND, 

" I hope you will not mistake that remissness in writing 
I have to confess to you, for neglect, as it arises from the num- 
ber and pressing nature of my daily important engagements — 
and you know I have to undertake all these with a mind always 
tortured with anxiety, and exercised with the severe strokes of 
our father's chastening rod. Long and distressing is the illness 
of both my beloved friends at Brighton. The event is with God, 
and I know that he will so manage it, as to advance his own 
glory, though perhaps not what I should consider my interest. 
You too, my dear friend, have shared a measure of affliction, from 
the disposals of divine providence : I have no doubt but you 
have felt, and felt keenly too, but you can ' hope in God, for 
you shall yet praise him, who is the health of your countenance 
and your God.' His grace shall be sufficient for you, his arm 
shall sustain both you and yours., and in your cares he will ever 



332 APPENDIX. 

feel the liveliest interest. Oh ! then cast, my valued friend, cast 
all your cares upon him, for he careth for you. I often delight 
my mind with reflecting 1 on the various pleasures we enjoyed 
together in what the' world would call better days g but we, 
who look upward more than the men of the world do, would 
call no days or seasons ill or unfortunate, because to us there 
is a promise made, which says, ' As thy day is so shall thy 
strength be.' Frequently however do I, with affectionate re- 
membrance of yourself, review the different, the interesting 
journies we have taken together — no w separated by the hand 
of providence, we serve the same beloved Lord, we press to the 
same holy and happy state. May grace preserve us all the 
days of our pilgrimage on earth, and land us safe in heaven. 

* I think that till very lately I never properly considered the 
uncertainty of human life, or the vanity of the world. God has 
however caused me to hear impressive lectures on these sub- 
jects, in such a way, as secured my deepest attention, and reach- 
ed my inmost soul. Oh ! that I may learn obedience by the 
things which I suffer. 

" I hope I am blessed from above in my ministerial work ; 
may the Eternal Spirit sanction and succeed my labours ! I hope 
to be ordained the second week in June. Rev. Ebenezer White, 
of Chester, has recentlyjoinedthe spirits of just men made per- 
ect. I am going to his funeral. Farewell ; may you keep 
close to God, and then I know you will be happy. 
" I am, your's affectionately, 

"THOMAS SPENCER" 



A POEM 

OS THE DEATH OF THE REV. THOMAS SPENCER^ OF LIVERPOOL, WHO 
WAS DROWNED IN BATHING IN THE TIDE, AUGUST 5, 1811. 

BY JAMES MONTGOMERY. 

Author of the World before the Flood. 



PSALM LXXVII, V. 19. 

<4 Thy way is in the sea, and, thy path in the greut 
tvaters ; and thy footsteps are not knoivn." 

I WILL not sing- a mortal's praise ; 
To Thee I consecrate the lays, 

To whom my pow'rs belong" ; 
These gifts, upon thine altar strown^ 
O God ! accept — accept thine own ! 
My gifts are thine ; be thine alone 

The glory of my song. 

In earth and ocean, sky and air, 
All that is excellent and fair, 

Seen, felt, or understood, 
From one eternal cause descends, 
To one eternal centre tends, 
With God begins, continues, ends, 

The source and stream of good. 



334 POEM. 

I worship not the sun at noon, 

The wand'ring stars, the changing moon, 

The wind, the flood, the flame ; 
I will not bow the votive knee 
To wisdom, virtue, liberty ; 
" There is no God but God" for me,* 

Jehovah is his name. 

Him through all nature I explore j 
Him in his creatures I adore, 

Around, beneath, above ; 
But clearest in the human mind, 
His bright resemblance when I find, 
Grandeur with purity combin'd, 

I most admire and love. 

O there was Oste— on earth awhile 
He dwelt ; but transient as a smile 

That turns into a tear ; 
His beautious image pass'd us by ; 
He came like lightning from the sky, 
He seem'd as dazzling to the eye, 

As prompt to disappear. 

Sweet in his undissembling mien 
Were genius, candour, meekness, seen. 

The lips that lov'd the truth ; 
The single eye, whose glance sublime 
Look'd to eternity through time ; 
The soul, whose thoughts were wont to clim'b 

Above the hopes of youth. 

Of old,* before the lamp grew dark, 
Reposing near the sacred Ark, 

The child of Hannah's pray'r 
Heard, midst the temple's silent round, 

* J. Samuel, i. 3. 



POEM. 335 

A living- voice ; nor knew the sound 

That thrice alarm' d him ere he found 

The Lord, who chose him, there. 

Thus early call'd, and strongly mov'd, 
A prophet from a child approv'd, 

Spencer his course began ; 
From strength to strength, from grace to grace, 
Swiftest and foremost in the race, 
He carried vict'ry in his face, 

He triumph'd while he ran. 

•How short his day !~ the glorious prize, 
To our slow hearts and failing eyes, 

Appear'd too quickly won : 
The warrior rush'd into the field, 
With arm invincible to wield 
The spirit's sword, the spirit's shield, 

When lo ! the fight was done. 

The loveliest star of evening's train 
Sets early in the western main, 

And leaves the world in night ; 
The brightest star of morning's host, 
Scarce ris'n, in brighter beams is lost. 
Thus sunk his form on ocean's coast, 

Thus sprang his soul to light. 

Who shall forbid the eye to weep 
That saw him, from the ravening deep, 

Pluck'd like the lion's prey ? 
Forever bow'd his honour'd head, 
The spirit in a moment fled, 
The heart of friendship cold and dead, 

The limbs a wreath of clay. 

Revolving his misterious lot, 
I mourn him, but I praise him not ; 
To God the praise be giv'n, 



336 POEM 

Who sent him,— like the radiant bow, 
His covenant of peace to sho w; 
Athwart the passing storm to glow, 
Then vanish into heav'n. 

O Chukch ! to whom the youth was dear, 
The angel of thy mercies near, 

Behold the path he trod ; 
A " milky way" through midnight skies ! 
Behold the grave in which he lies ; 
E'en from the dust the prophet cries, 

" Prepare to meet thy God." 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY, 

BY CHARLES BUCK. 



ISAIAH XI. 6, 7, 8. 

The voice said, Cry. And he said, What shall I 
cry ? Ml flesh is grass, and all the goodliness thereof is as 
the flower of the field. Tlie grass wither eth ; the flow- 
er fadeth, because the Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon 
it : surely the people are grass. The grass withereih, 
the flower fadeth ; but the word of our God shall stand 
for ever. 

IT is computed that near thirty millions of the hu^ 
man race die every year ! What an awful reflection is 
this ! How great the multitude that are constantly drop- 
ping into eternity ! and how numerous the paths that 
lead to the grave ! Life, too, is hut a short journey, and 
we soon arrive at the house appointed for all living. 
We may rather be said to die daily, than to live. We 
have not only the spoils of death around us, but the 
seeds of death within us. We do not all however, de- 
scend to the tomb in the same way. vSome few are 
spared to the age of man, and then pass silently away. 
Others are cut off* in the bloom of life, and in the midst 
of active and useful exertions. Some linger for a while 
under painful disease — they see their grave ready be- 
fore they lie down in it. Others, v/earied with life, 
and impatient under its ills, throw themselves into the 
arms of death : " they either shake their glass to make 
it run faster, or break it at once by violence." And 
some who bid fair to stand for a season, are unexpect 
£9 



338 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

edly called away by some mysterious dispensation of 
divine providence. Thus it was with our departed 
young friend. The public eye was upon him, and much 
was anticipated from his talents and zeal in the great 
work in which he was engaged ; but infinite Wisdom 
has seen fit to remove him to another world. Well ! 
what shall we say ? " Clouds and darkness are round 
about the Most High ; but righteousness and judgment 
are the habitation of his throne."* 

The words we have chosen are not to be considered 
only in relation to the opposers of God's ancient people, 
at the time of their deliverance from captivity, but are 
applicable to the whole human race. " The voice said, 
Cry. And he said, What shall I cry ? Ml flesh is grass, 
and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the 
field." The mortality of man then is a subject with 
which we ought to be deeply affected. It is, indeed, 
that which makes but a faint impression on the mind 5 
for, though the living know that they must die, yet there 
is a most strange insensibility as to this awful event. 
We can hear of it without concern, and talk of it with- 
out feeling; when it comes nearer to us than usual, 
we seem awake for a moment, just drop a tear or two 
over our departed enjoyments, converse a little on the 
uncertainty of life, and then fall asleep again and dream 
away our existence ; till at last, we are awakened by 
this very enemy, whose approach we have all along 
studied to forget, and winch most of us, indeed, are ill- 
prepared to meet ! But how unwise is this, thus, to im- 
pose upon ourselves ! Can any thing be more irration- 
al ? " O that we were but wise — that we did but con- 
sider our latter end !"t 

* Psalm xcvii. 1, 2. fDeut. xxxiL 29. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 339 

In attending to these words, let us observe the state 
of man as here represented, and endeavour to derive 
from them so#le important and useful lessons. 

I. Observe the Description. — Man is jtesh ! It is true 
he possesses an immaterial, immortal principle 5 but his 
animal frame is frail and perishing. He is not compos- 
ed of gold nor silver, marble nor iron, wood nor stone, 
nor any of the durable materials around him. Almost 
every object he sees or handles is less perishable than 
himself. There is nothing substantial in his nature. 
He is affected by almost every thing that touches him. 
An insect can contend with him ; a worm can under- 
mine him ; a little air can stifle him ; a few drops of 
water can drown him ; a moth can crush him. The 
Almighty need not throw a mountain on him to destroy 
him ; he need not call for a torrent to inundate him ; 
he need not open a volcano to swallow him. — No: 
Weakness and death are in his very frame. It is but 
an earthly house ; a temporary building ; the various 
parts of which are kept together with labour and diffi- 
culty. The body must be daily fed, or it languishes : 
it must be clothed,, or it is benumbed with cold ; it 
must lie down for rest, or it will fall of itself: it must 
be perpetually exercised, or it will become the habita- 
tion of disease : it must be treated with attention and 
watched over with care, or it will be rendered unfit for 
the functions of life. How many wheels are there in per- 
petual motion ! the friction of which, if driven too fast, 
will set fire to the whole machine ; or, if impeded or 
clogged, will stop the whole course. The apostle Paul 
calls it a vile body 5* not indeed in respect to God's 

PhU. iii. 21. 



340 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

workmanship— but as it is flesh, formed of the dust of 
the ground, the habitation of many evil propensities, 
too often a hindrance to devotion and mist at last be- 
come noisome, and be cast into the grave. Here, too, 
we are all on a level. What is that mighty conqueror, 
celebrated for his military glory, and applauded for his 
noble achievements in the field of battle ? — It is but 
flesh. What is that illustrious monarch, sitting; on a 
splendid throne, and clothed in all the robes of majes- 
ty ? — It is but flesh. What is that profound philoso- 
pher, diving into the depths of science, or soaring above 
the intellects of his fellows. — It is but flesh. What is 
chat persuasive orator, that so impresses with his elo- 
quence, that charms and affects the passions of the hu- 
man mind ? — It is but flesh. What that fine form and 
beautiful countenance, that attract the attention and 
fascinate the senses ? — It is but flesh. " Death (says 
one) will alike condemn their eyes to impenetrable 
night; their tongue to eternal silence; their whole 
system to the grave. I see a superb monument ; I ap- 
proach this striking object. I see magnificent inscrip- 
tions : I read the pompous titles of general, prince, 
monarch ; but I long to see the inside of this elegant 
piece of workmanship 5 and I peep under the stone that 
covers him, to whom all this pomp is consecrated. — 
There I find — what ? A putrid carcase, devoured by 
worms ! vanity of human grandeur ! Vanity of van- 
ities : all is vanity !"* Now, is this the case ? Then why 
should we think so much of our bodies ? why should all 
our happiness be placed in the gratification of our sen- 
ses ? Why should we spend so much time and money 
in adorning that which must soon decay ? — Especially 

* Saurin. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 341 

aged people ; how painful is it to see them so fond of 
useless decorations ! The day is nearly closed : the 
evening is advancing 5 and yet they want to go down 
to the grave covered with finery. Their strength, per- 
haps, is gone ; their frame has the marks of death upon 
it. It is but a skeleton ; and yet they want to cover it 
with ornaments. What an affecting sight, to see old 
age and new fashions meeting together ! How much 
happier they whose adorning is not " the outward adorn- 
ing of plaiting the hair, of wearing of gold, or of putting 
on of apparel, but is that of the hidden man of the heart, 
which is not corruptible, even the ornament of a meek 
and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great 
price."* Seek then this grace. Let not the body be 
adorned at the expense of the soul. Remember, "to 
be carnally minded is death, but to be spiritually min- 
ded is life and peace. Put ye on, therefore, the Lord 
Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the flesh, to 
fulfil the lusts thereof."! 

II. Observe the Comparison. — " All flesh is grass, 
and all the goodliness thereof is as the flower of the 
field." Human nature in its lowest state is but grass, 
and in its highest, but a flower. " The Lord God form- 
ed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into 
his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a liv- 
ing soul."! He is then of earthly extraction. Though 
God was his maker, yet he was not constituted pure 
intelligence. " The first man, says the Apostle, was 
of the earth, earthy. "§ Like grass, how easily endan- 
gered, how soon cut down. How exposed to the winds 

* 1 Pet. ill. 3, 4. f Rom. viii. 6. siii. 14. 

i Gen. ii. 7. § 1 Cor. xv. 4f> 

*29 



i342 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

and storms of adversity. Nor can he screen himself 
from these. They pass over the field of life, and often 
prove destructive in their career. The diseases to 
which we are liable are numerous, and the casualties 
we are subject to, are not a few. Ten thousand things 
lie in ambush to push us to the grave. And even 
events trifling in themselves have proved destructive. 
" We read of some, that a fly or a grape stone have 
dispatched them ; some that have died by plucking an 
hair from their breasts ; the Almighty thus turning a 
very hair into a spear to destroy them. If we consider 
the vicissitude of natural things, we shall find that death 
reigns in them all. The day dies into night, summer 
into winter ; time itself, that destroys all things, yet 
dies continually ; nor can it exist two minutes togeth- 
er. Our very life is nothing but a succession of dying ; 
every day, and every hour wears away part of it, and 
so far as it is already spent, so far are we already dead 
and buried : so that the longest liver has no more, but, 
that he is longer a dying than others."* But, another 
figure is here used by the Prophet : " all the goodli- 
ness thereof, is as the flower of the field.*' Not as the 
flower of the garden ; where it is cultivated and pro- 
tected 5 but of the field, where every hand is ready to 
gather it, or any foot may tread it down. The flower 
is noted for three qualities : sweetness, that affects the 
smell 5 beauty, that affects the eye ; softness, that af- 
fects the touch. The metaphor, therefore, is here em- 
ployed to represent man at his best estate. But as the 
most beautiful flower soon loses these qualities, so it is 
said, " the days of man are as grass ; as a flower of the 
field so he flourisheth : the wind passeth over it, and 

* Hopkins. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 343 

it is gone, and the place thereof knoweth it no more. 
In the morning, it flourisheth and groweth up ; in the 
evening, it is cut down and withereth."* Have you 
not, reader, known this in your own circle ? You have 
been favoured with earthly comforts ; you have often 
looked upon them with peculiar pleasure; you have 
taken more than usual care with those flowers which 
have appeared tender and beautiful in your own eyes ; 
you have transplanted them, as you thought to a more 
genial soil ; you have said, well, these are delightful 
objects — these are sources of the greatest pleasure- 
truly, I am happy in their possession — these shall be 
my support and comfort in times yet to come. 0, how 
have you gone and watered these flowers ; how have 
you hedged them round ; how have you endeavoured 
to protect them when you saw the storm advancing ; 
but ah ! after all, you could not preserve them : you 
have had the pain to see the leaf fade, the beauty de- 
cline, the energy fail, and presently the whole fall. 
What! said you, Can it be? Is this my child; is this 
my friend ; is this the object I so much admired ? Fath- 
er of mercies! why this? why didst thou not smite yon- 
der weed ? why didst thou not let thy hand fall on the 
unsightly plant, rather than on this choice flower? 
Thus, however, Providence is pleased to work ; and 
herein it becomes us to learn the vanity of depending 
on any human excellency. Neither the goodliness of 
the flower, the care of its owner, nor the felicity of its 
situation, can preserve it alive. Beware, then, of idol- 
izing the creature. Turn your attention to a superior 
object: anticipate the joys of another world — there, no 
worm is at the root ; there, the goodliness shail never fade . 

* Psalm ciii. 14, 16. xc. 6, 



344 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

III. Mark the Universality of Man's Mortality.—- 
Not a few, but all flesh is grass. " As by one man sin 
entered into the world, and death by sin ; so death pass- 
ed upon all men, for that all have sinned. It is ap- 
pointed unto men once to die, and after that the judg- 
ment. There is no man that hath power over the Spir- 
it to retain the Spirit ; neither hath he power in the day 
of death."* Ever since the entrance of sin, death has 
been making the most awful ravages. « One genera- 
tion passeth away, and another coineth 5 but the earth 
abideth for eveiv't " The world," says one, " is like a 
great fair, where some are coming in — others going out, 
while the assembly that is in it is confused, and the 
most part know not wherefore they are come togeth- 
er.":}: Whether men however be wise or ignorant, 
idle or active, rich or poor, young or old, death is com- 
mon to all. It is not to be bribed by riches, impeded 
by power, conquered by strength, nor stayed by en- 
treaties. All ranks fall before this destroyer. Some- 
times it is the harmless infant, who has no sooner en- 
tered the vale of tears than it is commanded to de- 
part. Sometimes the youth, whose powers just began 
to open, and whose appearance was the most promis- 
ing, is unexpectedly removed. Sometimes the middle 
aged, in the midst of business, and apparently in health, 
are pierced by a sudden arrow from the bow of death. 
Nor are the rich and the great exempt. They too, 
must die, like others. There is no royal path to the 
grave. There is not one kind of death for the mon- 
arch, and another for the peasant. The crown cannot 
prolong life, nor the sceptre sway the last enemy, 
death. Here, too, the wise philosopher, as well as the 

• Rom. v. 12. Heb. ix. 27. f Eccl. i. 4. viii. & i Boston 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY* 345 

ignorant barbarian, must fall. The finest understanding 
must be darkened 5 the strongest powers fail ; and the 
most brilliant imagination be clouded. — Nor shall the 
mighty conquerors of nations escape. Where are our 
Alexanders, and our Cesars, who have struck terror 
through the whole world ? And, whither are those ten- 
ding, who yet disturb mankind with the noise of the 
chariots of war, the clash of arms, and the groans of 
the dying ? Soon they must surrender to the king of 
terrors, and be numbered among the slain. Neither 
let the beautiful nor the fair pride themselves in exter- 
nal appearance. They too must lie down in the grave, 
and their glory fade. The righteous also, however de- 
sirable their example, however exalted their piety, must 
go the way of all the earth. The wicked, too must de- 
part. However unwilling, they must obey ; however 
unprepared, they must go. Their cries to stay cannot 
be heard ; their hopes of respite will be in vain. The 
finally impenitent, it is said, do not go down gently into 
the grave ; but they " are driven away in their wicked- 
ness : they are driven out of light into darkness, and 
chased out of the world."* But shall not the benevo- 
lent, the zealous, the useful be spared ? An Enoch and 
an Elijah, indeed, reached the land of pure delight 
without passing the dark valley of death ; but no prom- 
ise is given to others of the like privilege. Yes ; the 
most useful must die. These we may consider as the 
goodliest flowers in the field : as the most valuable of 
all. But how often are they cut down just as they be- 
gin to bud, or suddenly wither as they arrive to their 
full bloom ? What shall we say to the instance before 
us ? Was not here a beautiful flower, with hues paint- 

* Job xviil 18. Prov. xiv. 32, 



346 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

ed by the rays of the Sun of Righteousness 5 and, un- 
folding its excellencies as the summer advanced, but 
alas! suddenly swept away, to be seen no more. O 
God ! mysterious is thy providence, but righteous art 
thou in all thy ways ! 

Here, then, is the end of all. " The grass withereth, 
and the flower fadeth ;" but it is added, " because the 
Spirit of the Lord bloweth upon it." Let us not con- 
sider it then as coming by chance. Whatever be the 
means, the place, or the time, let us remember, it is 
the Lord's doing. Besides, it is necessary to die, as 
well as to live. There is another state of things, as 
well as the present, and of far more importance.-^ 
There is a judgment to come 5 and we must leave this 
world to appear before that solemn tribunal. There 
are dark providences which cannot be understood here : 
we must quit the present scene, that we may be able 
to bear the explanation. There are riches of glory, 
which our present capacities cannot contain : we must 
die before w^e shall be able to explore them. There are 
abodes of light, and mansions of absolute purity above; 
but we must be dissolved, leave our imperfections here, 
and be endowed with glorious bodies and celestial 
minds, to be fitted for the enjoyment of them. To the 
righteous then, death is a friend. If the flower drop, 
it is that it may be removed from the desert, to bloom 
for ever in the light and glory of the paradise of God. 

As it respects human life, the repetition used in the 
text should teach us the earnestness with which the 
frailty of man should be stated, and the necessity there 
is of endeavouring to impress the subject on our own 
hearts. It is not said that the grass will fade, but that 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 347 

it now does. We shall not only go, but we are all 
now going to one place. " Our life is a candle, either 
blown out by the wind, or soon burns out of itself." 
Death comes indeed very sudden to some. Some go 
cheerfully to rest in the evening, but are consumed be- 
fore the morning light. Some venture into the river, 
without suspecting danger ; but the waves cover them, 
and they are seen no more. Others set out on a jour- 
ney, for business or pleasure, but are thrown out of the 
vehicle, and carried back dead. Others, while conver- 
sing with a friend, in a moment are seized with pain, 
heave a sigh, and fall lifeless to the ground. " It is a 
strange folly then, that w£, who are subject to such cas- 
ualties, should yet dream of dying no other way than 
by old age. Did we but seriously consider, by what 
small pins the frame of man is held together, it would 
appear no less a miracle to us, that we live to the end 
of one day, or one hour."* 

But, supposing we are preserved from these painful 
circumstances, still let us remember, that w r e are dying 
wbile we live. Every step in life is a step towards the 
end of it. Youth, health, vigour, prosperity may inter- 
cept our view of death, but it does not place us farther 
from it. Life is said to have wings. " My days," said 
Job, " fly away, as an eagle that hasteth to the prey."f 
It is not by slow and deliberate paces that we are go- 
ing ; it is not with an ordinary flight ; but like the ex- 
traordinary swiftness of the eagle after her prey. How 
wonderful that it should so little affect us ; especially 
too, when we see so many continually falling around 
us ! " Who is there that sees the mark of the archer, 
and beholds one arrow fly over his head, another light 

* Hopkins. f Job ix. 25, 26. 



348 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

at his feet ; one glance over his right, another by his 
left hand, that will not at length think of his danger — 
that, by the very next, he also may be slain ? Man is 
the mark at which death is continually shooting. Some- 
times the arrow flies over our heads, and slays some 
great person, our superior. Sometimes it lights at our 
feet, when it kills a child, or servant, or those who are 
our inferiors. Sometimes it passes by our left hand, 
and kills an enemy, at whose death possibly we rejoice; 
and, anon, it strikes the friend of our right hand. — 
Though we see all this ; though we see our friends and 
foes, of all states and ages, drop down dead around us; 
yet are we as careless as if it did not concern us ; 
whereas possibly, the very next arrow may strike us 
through the heart dead upon the place !"* 

But while the best and most serious must confess 
their insensibility to danger, how should we pity the 
wicked ! Sudden death to a good man is sudden glory; 
but the wicked are neither happy in the thought of 
death, nor at all prepared for it. They have their por- 
tion in this life. The beauties of virtue, the excellen- 
cies of godliness, the glories of heaven have no charms 
for them. They prefer the indulgence of their appe- 
tites, the pleasures of the world, and the gratification 
of their passions to all the satisfaction which a good 
hope, a pure conscience, or right principles can afford. 
How dreadful must the prospect of death be to such 
men ! The very thought of leaving this world must fill 
them with horror. Hence, when one flattered another 
in the midst of his enjoyments, and asked him, What 
he wanted more ? he said " Continuance." But this 
is the very thing that cannot be granted. To how ma- 

* Hopkins. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. o4$ 

ay does God say, " This night thy soul shall be requir- 
ed of thee ?" miserable man, then, who builds his 
happiness on what he cannot retain ; who thinks about 
every thing but the right object ; who is always busy 
in gazing upon the baubles of sense, and despises the 
pearl of great price ; who is assiduously gathering im- 
aginary treasures, which at last will be of no more avail 
than pebbles or straws, while he neglects the one thing 
needful ! May such remember, before it be too late, 
that without repentance of their sin and faith in the 
Saviour, they cannot meet death with joy, nor ever be 
permitted to enter into the kingdom of heaven. 

Having now offered a few Reflections on Mortality 
let us observe, 

IV. The consolation afforded us under these affecting 
views, 

" The grass withereth, the flower fadeth, but the 
word of our God shall stand for ever." And Peter 
adds, " and this is the word which by the Gospel is 
preached unto you."* Let us not say then, that our 
condition is deplorable. He who is infinitely wise and 
holy, is also merciful and gracious, long suffering, and 
abundant in goodness and truth. " As a father pitieth 
his children, so he pitieth us."t He has written to us 
the great things of his law ; he has favoured us with the 
revelation of his will. Beholding us as rational, yet 
sinful and dying creatures, he hath made known to us 
a system every way adapted to renovate our natures, 
illuminate our minds, relieve our miseries, and conduct 
us safe to a happier world. " In this was manifested 
the love of God towards us because that God sent his on* 

* 1 Pet. I 25. f p salm ciii. 1£ 



330 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

I j begotten Son into the world, that we might live through 
him. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that 
he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for 
our sins."* Here, then, amidst all the changes of time, 
and the awful ravages of death, we find a firm basis on 
which to build. Here we can behold God as our fath- 
er, Christ as our mediator, and the divine Spirit as our 
comforter and guide. Here it is that we hear a voice, 
saying, " Son, daughter, be of good cheer, all thy sins 
are forgiven thee." Our attention is turned off from 
every thing here to centre alone in the chief good. — 
Here we can approach the Almighty without trembling; 
and, without presumption, humbly hope for his bene- 
diction. Under the cross, we can dwell without fear, 
and with wonder and delight behold our guilt rolled 
away for ever. Clothed with the righteousness of our 
Redeemer, and participating the influences of his grace, 
we can rejoice with a joy unspeakable and full of glo- 
ry. Yes, this, and this only is the support of man un- 
der all the evils of life. This affords tranquillity with- 
in, while the tempest rages without. Welcome, then, 
all ye scenes of sorrow and trouble ! Welcome, all ye 
vicissitudes of life, and harbingers of death ! Yea, wel- 
come death itself, and an eternal world ! These shall 
not affright the renewed soul ; these shall not damp 
the happiness of him who looks above, and aspires to 
glory and immortality. O how delightful, how suitable 
is the gospel of Christ ! What affliction does not this 
sweeten 5 what loss does not this repair ; what condi- 
tion does not this make easy ! What gloom does not 
this dispel ! "Blessed are they that know the joyful 
sound: they shall walk, Lord, in the light of thy 

* 1 John iv. 9, 10. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 351 

countenance ; in thy name shall they rejoice all the 
day, and in thy righteousness shall they be exalt- 
ed'."* 

But let us observe here the striking contrast be- 
tween this delightful system and, all other things. The 
one is said to fade, but the other shall stand forever. 
We have already seen that every thing of a sublunary 
nature tends to decay : however excellent it may ap- 
pear to our view ; however valuable it may be considered 
in itself; or however desirous we may be of retaining it 
— it is of no consequence ; mutability and dissolution 
are written upon all. But here is the Plant of Renoun, 
that bears twelve manner of fruits ; and which shall 
never cease to yield in the paradise above. For ages 
already hath the Gospel shed its influence among the 
sons of men. The powers of darkness, indeed, have 
done all they could to destroy the leaves which are for 
the healing of the nations. The tree of life has been 
surrounded with enemies. There, the savage barbari- 
an, the refined philosopher, the malignant demon, the 
proud pharisee, the boasting infidel, and the wretched 
profligate, have all assembled for the purpose of its 
destruction. But how vain ! Who can extinguish the 
sun ? who can blot out a world ? who can cause the 
heavens to depart as a scroll ? w^ho can grasp the ocean 
in his hand ! As well might feeble mortals attempt to 
do this, as endeavour to injure that which is more dear 
to God, than all the material systems ever created by 
his all-powerful hand. " It endureth forever." Yes ; 
it shall still continue to make progress. What ! though 
enemies oppose, ignorance and infidelity strive, and the 
powers of the world unite against it. What though 

* Psalm lxxxix. 15, 16, 



S?5B REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

'the means may seem sometimes to be useless, and the 
faithful, promising servants of God be removed — yet 
it ^must prevail. All the laws of nature must be re- 
verted ; the sun, turned into darkness ; the moon, into 
blood ; and the stars drop from their spheres, sooner 
than the purposes of Jehovah shall be disannulled. 
The gospel must live, and finally triumph. All man- 
kind of every age and nation, shall be raised, and as- 
sembled to attend the funeral of the world ; but 
none shall ever be called to witness the extirpation 
of the gospel. It is, therefore, justly designated ever- 
lasting ; for it shall endure to the end of time, be- 
come victorious over all nations, and its happy effects 
felt forever in a better world. 

You, Christian, must shortly feel the stroke of mor- 
tality. Heart and flesh must fail 5 but in that solemn 
moment you will find, more than ever, the suitability of 
this divine scheme. When not a single creature in the 
world can be of any service to you, this shall not leave 
vou comfortless, but remain your support to the last, 
Then, when closing your eyes on all earthly scenes ; 
when leaving your dearest relatives and friends ; when 
the cold hand of the last enemy is upon you, you shall 
sing, " O death ! where is thy sting ? O grave ! where 
is thy victory ? Thanks be unto God, who give th us the 
victory, through our Lord Jesus Christ."* 

V. Lastly. Observe^ that loth Man's Mortality and 
the Divine Clemency are to be proclaimed ; for the voice 
said. Cry. 

The ministers of the sanctuary are not to dwell in 
solitude ; they are not to live perpetually in the study ? 

* X Cor. xy. #£ 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. oDb 

aor spend their time in silent meditation. They must 
come forth; they must cry aloud, and spare not 5 they 
must lift up their voice, to warn men of their danger, 
and to point them to the place of refuge. " I have 
set watchmen on thy walls, Jerusalem, which shall 
never hold their peace, day nor night : ye that make 
mention of the Lord, keep not silent."* Such is the 
divine command. Nor let it be considered as a small 
privilege, to be reminded of our real condition, and to 
be favoured with the tidings of mercy. " But how 
shall men call on him in whom they have not believed ? 
and how shall they believe in him of whom they have 
not heard ? and how shall they hear without a preach- 
er ? And how shall they preach, except they be sent ? 
As it is written how beautiful are the feet of them that 
preach the gospel of peace, and bring glad tidings of 
good things I"f 

The ministration of the gospel is therefore of the 
greatest importance. It is for this purpose the Almigh- 
ty is pleased to raise up and qualify his servants, that 
they may be faithful monitors to the sons of men. Ear- 
nestly, zealously, constantly must they declare the 
truth. They must be " instant in season 5 out of sea- 
son, reprove, rebuke, exhort, with all long-suffering and 
doctrine."* 

Various may be the talents of the ambassadors of 
Christ, but their great object must be the same. When 
this is kept in view, we may expect the Divine bles- 
sing will render them successful 5 for he has said, " Lo, 
I am with you always, even unto the end of the world."§ 

* Isa. lxii. 6. f Rom. x. 14,15. * 2 Tim. m, 2. 

§ Matt, xxviii. 20. 

*30 



Sd4 R£FLECTfOK~S OK MORTALITY, 

Let us here recollect, however, that though the Almigh- 
ty is pleased to honour men and not angels as the in- 
struments of preaching the gospel* yet they are but 
earthen vessels ; they are flesh and cannot abide for 
ever. Sometimes they are taken away at the very 
time when they appear to be the most promising and 
the most useful. Thus has divine Providence been 
pleased to remove our dear young friend, of whom we 
shall now proceed to give some account. 

Mr. Thomas Spencer was born at Hertford, and re- 
served his religious impressions very early in life. 
Having a great desire to engage in the work of the 
ministry, he was placed under the care of the Rev. W. 
Hordle of Harwich. Here he stayed for twelve 
months, and displayed evident marks of considerable 
talent and piety. Before the age of sixteen, he was 
admitted into Hoxton Academy.* Here, on account 
&f his youth, it was thought proper that he should ap- 
pear in public as little as possible at first. Supplies^ 
however being wanted, Mr. S. was sent occasionally 
to preach. His popularity soon began to appear, and 
the requests for Mr. Spencer's labours were so numer- 
ous, that it was with difficulty that they could be gran- 
ted. The sweetness of his tone, the evangelical strain 
of his discourse, his accurate and appropriate quota- 
lions from scripture, his peculiar energy, his youthful 
appearance, his admirable gift of prayer, all tended to 
render him popular. Having completed his studies at 
Hoxton, many destitute congregations were looking 
with wishful eye towards him, nor was there a little 

* For a copy of his religious experience, which was read to 
the committee previous to Jus admission, see Memoirs, pag^ 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 555 

exertion among them who should succeed in obtaining 
him. As his talents however were acceptable, it was 
thought that a large sphere of usefulness would be de- 
sirable. Accordingly he accepted a call to Liverpool, 
and commenced his stated ministy on the first Sabbath 
in February last.* Here attracting vast multitudes of 
people, a larger place was thought necessary. On the 
17th of April he laid the foundation-stone of a new 
ehapely to be ninety-six feet in length, and sixty-six 
feet in breadth. On this occasion he wrote to a friend 
in London as follows : " Yesterday I laid the founda- 
tion-stone of my new chapel ; gave an address on the 
spot ; and dedicated the place to God in solemn pray- 
er. The auditory consisted of not less than five thou- 
sand people, who were all fixed in their attention. 
May I on that ground often find a solace for my care 
in the public worship of God ! May he bless the under- 
taking ! May his eyes and his heart be there perpetu- 
ally!" 

In a letter to Mr. Wilson, dated June 4 ? he thus 
expresses himself: 

" The walls of Zion are to be built in troublesome 
times, for such they are to me ; yet I would submis- 
sively commit my case to God ; he may ordain, that 
the benefit of his church, and the good of others, shall 
he promoted by the ills I endure. You know poor 
White of Chester has received the end of his faith, the 
salvation of his soul. I delivered the funeral oration 
@ver his grave. We are all dying creatures, hasten- 
ing to the world of immortality. I think that, lately, 
the world has appeared to me in its true light : it pas- 

* Before he left the Academy he delivered a parting address, 
is the presence of his fellow students. See Appendix No. IV. 



355 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

seth away. May we by every dispensation of Provi- 
dence be rendered more meet for the inheritance of 
the saints ! May we be clothed upon with our house 
which is from heaven !" 

On the 27th of June he was ordained. Mr. Hor- 
dle, who gave the charge, made the following remarka- 
ble observations : you, my dear young brother, must 
die, and stand at the bar of God. Your ordination 
service may be a prelude to your funeral service ; 
for what is man ? Man is but of yesterday ; and his 
days are as a shadow. How often have we seen the 
sun go down while it is yet day ! While the church 
has been pleasing itself with the prospect of enjoying 
the pious, fervent labours of an endeared minister for 
years, has an unexpected stroke separated them for 
ever ! Mourning suvivors, wondering, have said, " Ver- 
ily, thou art a God that hidest thyself, God of Israel^ 
the Saviour!" 

And truly how mysterious are the ways of Provi- 
dence. His time on earth was indeed to be short. On 
the Sabbath preceding his death he preached in the 
morning from those words, Jeremiah xxxi. 3 : "I have 
loved thee with an everlasting love; therefore, with 
loving-kindness have I drawn thee." He afterwards 
administered the Lord's Supper, in a manner remark- 
ably edifying and impressive. In the evening, he took 
for his text the words of our Lord, as recorded in Luke 
X. 42. " But one thing is needful, and Mary hath cho- 
sen that good part winch shall not be taken away from 
her." 

. On Monday morning, " It appears that Mr. Spen- 
cer left his residence in the Park, in good heajtlr, 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 357 

about eleven o'clock in the forenoon (August 5) and 
walked down to the beach, where he met with a gen- 
tleman of the name of Brookfield, who had been ba- 
thing, and was then dressing, with whom he entered 
into conversation, and asked if the place was a good 
one for bathing. On being answered in the affirma- 
tive, Mr. S. began to undress. When he walked into 
the water he was met bj a person of the name of Potter, 
one of the workmen of the Herculaneum pottery, who 
directed him in what manner he should come into the 
water, but had no knowledge of him. Mr. Spencer 
observed it was very cold ; when Potter said, he would 
feel warmer when he had been in awhile. When Mr. 
Spencer was about breast-high, he plunged over head, 
and then made an attempt to swim in a parallel line 
with the shore ; and after he had gone about two yards 
in this direction, he recovered his feet, and again said, 
iir Oh ! it is very cold !" Soon after this by the strength 
of an eddy current, produced by a projecting rock, he 
was swept out of his depth. Potter himself, who is an 
expert swimmer, found himself floating in the same 
direction, and with some difficulty recovered the shore, 
when he looked about for Mr. Spencer, and saw the 
top of his head floating above the surface of the water. 
Potter knew not whether he was amusing himself, or 
drowning. He however, cried out to him, but receiv- 
ing no answer, immediately plunged in again, and 
swam to the rock to render him assistance, which he 
found impossible, Mr. Spencer having then sunk in seven 
feet water ; and Potter with some trouble got up the 
side of the rock, and communicated the intelligence 
to Mr. Smith, the resident-agent of the potteries, who 
immediately ordered out two boats which were directs 



358 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

\y manned and brought to the spot, where every exer- 
tion was used by Potter, as well as by those in the 
boats, to find the body. At length, they succeeded in 
drawing it up. after it had been in tlie water about fif- 
ty minutes. It was instantly conveyed to the shore, 
where, by the judicious arrangements of Mr. Smith, 
there were several physicians and surgeons in attend- 
ance, who used every possible method that could be 
devised to restore animation, but without effect.^* 

Such was the melancholy end of this excellent young 
minister at the age of twenty years and a half. 
Lovely youth ! little didst thou think, the day before, 
when expatiating on the glories of heaven, that thou 
shouldst so soon be there ! Little didst thou think, that 
thine immortal spirit should take its flight from the bri- 
ny deep to the celestial world ! Little didst thou think, 
that, in a few days, the dear object of thy affections 
should have to weep, in the anguish of her soul, in 
hearing the melancholy tidings of thy death ! Ah ! and 
little did we imagine, that on thy tomb this inscription 
should be written — « Here are the remains of one who 
bid fair to be eminent and useful in the church, but 
who was suddenly swallowed up by the mighty waves ! w 
Well, " it is the Lord ; let him do what seemeth him 
good. He gave, and he hath taken away : blessed be 
the name of the Lord."t 

Learn here the sovereignty of God. Here was a 
young man highly esteemed. " Of manners most amia- 

* Liverpool Paper. 

| " On Tuesday, August the 13th, amidst an immense con- 
course of people, the remains of Mr. Spencer "were conveyed 
from the park to Newington chapel for interment" See Memoirs 
Page 251, 252, kc. 



REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 559 

ble, conciliating, and engaging. As a preacher, his tal- 
ents were held in a degree of estimation, and posses- 
sed an extent of influence, which have seldom been 
equalled in the annals of pulpit-eloquence. Perhaps it 
scarcely ever before fell to the lot of any individual, at 
so early an age, to have diffused religious impression 
through so extensive a circle of hearers." He was just 
about to enter the connubial state with an amiable 
young lady of pious and respectable connections. The 
church was looking forward with delightful prospects 
of his success; and thousands were ready to say, 
" This is the man whom God delighteth to honour. 
But, ah ! God's thoughts are not as our thoughts ; nor 
his ways, as our ways. Behold, he taketh away ; who 
can hinder him ? who will say unto him, What doest 
thou ?" 

3. Learn God's power and independency. He can 
carry on Ins cause without us. Paul is no more ; Wick- 
liffe is no more ; Luther is no more ; — but his gospel 
survives! His cause flourishes! The patriarchs, the 
prophets, the apostles, the reformers — where are they ? 
they have finished their work, and are gone to rest. 
But the truth died not with them ; the glory is not de- 
parted. Other instruments have succeeded. The 
ark is not lost ; the word of the Lord has free 
course, and will finally triumph over all. Let us 
not, then, despair. He who raised up our young 
friend, and made him useful for a season, can easily 
supply his place. Besides, he is taken away from the 
evil to come. Popularity might have become a snare, 
or some evil might have befallen him. Let us be satis- 
fied that he has done his work, though at an early pe- 
riod. Infinite Wisdom saw fit to transplant this flow- 



360 REFLECTIONS ON MORTALITY. 

er to a happier soil 5 and, who can tell ? his very 
death may prove the conversion of many ! We must 
submit. He doth all things well. 

3. Learn the uncertainty of every thing here. Ah ! 
little did his mother think, when he hung upon her 
breast, or when she dandled him on her knee, that this 
would be his melancholy end. And how little do we 
know of futurity ? Let us not then " host of to-morrow 
for we cannot tell what a day may bring forth."* Let 
us ask, if death should suddenly meet us, are we ready 
to die ? Do we know that it is dangerous to procrasti- 
nate ? Do we consider " that there is no work, nor de- 
vice, nor knowledge in the grave, whither we are go- 
ing."! 

let us seek the favour of him, then, who alone can 
forgive our sins, and whose Spirit can prepare us for 
the world ah.«>ve : then, should our departure be sudden, 
it will all be well ; we shall have an abundance en- 
trance into the everlasting kingdom of our Lord and 
Saviour Jesus Christ. Let us anticipate a better world ; 
let us rejoice in the hope of glory. Yes, Spencer ! we 
hope to see thee again, and thy spiritual children too, 
whom God hath graciously given thee. There we hope 
to join thee in celebrating the praises of the Most High 5 
there, beyond the reach of danger, we shall mingle our 
joys for ever ; there we shall go no more out ; there* 
the waves of trouble shall never beat upon us again, 
for there, it is said, " shall be no more sea."}: 

* Eccl. ix 10, f Prov, xxvii. 1. ± ReT, xxi. 1 




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